Rocket's Red Glare
by Troublesome Dragon
Summary: America gets more than he bargains for when he sits next to a pretty girl. Her eyes are quite literally hypnotic, and he's compelled to do whatever she says. Unfortunately, he hasn't quite figured that out, only that she kind of reminds him of Amelia Earhart.
1. Somehow I Never Knew

Somehow I Never Knew

Okay, what can I tell him? America wondered, trying to break the news to his boss as gently as possible. By now, the president knew more or less how things worked in Washington D.C. so another world meeting where the countries accomplished nothing shouldn't surprise him. Then again, Alfred also realized that he didn't completely want to kill his boss's optimism.

"Um, it went okay I guess. I brought donuts. Germany shouted at people. You know, the usual."

Perfect, America sounded completely oblivious. His boss sighed on the other end. That obviously wasn't something he wanted to hear. The man asked him what he planned to do now. Things were rather tense at home. He certainly didn't want to go back right away.

"Well, it's been a long flight, and I was thinking of taking a break for a few weeks if that's okay?"

Of course, the president couldn't stop him from taking a break, but he was trying to be nice about it. His boss gave him the green light to go ahead and do what he liked. It probably helped that America was already back in the states. America planned to spend quite a lot of time in his old Victorian house in the Chicago suburbs. He didn't always live there, but the place was quiet and in a nice neighborhood. So, America could easily rest there and still have access to the city center. Granted, most of the time, Alfred was content to stay in the local area and buy anything he needed from the independent shops. In fact, he was about to enter one of his favorite cafes before the president called him. For now, he leaned against the brick mortar and waited for the president to finish talking.

"Yes, I'll be careful. I won't draw any attention to myself. I swear."

They both knew that was a lie. When Alfred was left to his own devices too long, there tended to be at least one major incident that they never spoke of again. Sometimes it was only a close call. Other times, people had to be paid off. The rest of the time, the people around him treated him like an absolute angel. Again, it probably helped that he wasn't always around and that he was very talkative when he was. Frankly, America was often starved for conversation, or at least, for conversation that didn't center around politics. So, when he randomly came back to an old neighborhood of his, he would talk to anyone that would listen. Old couples in particular loved him. When they talked about the good old days, America was reminiscing right along with them.

"Well, call me if you need anything, I'm going to get myself some coffee."

The president wished him well and hung up. America hated to cut the conversation short, but he really needed the space right now. There was always such a demand to get things done quickly, and sometimes, America wanted to think things through before doing anything specific. Over the years, it had become habitual for Alfred to sift through the bull shit and try his best to be a good adviser. However, America's persona always reflected the bias of the time and had sometimes given his presidents horrible advice, or they in turn had influenced him to make horrible decisions. So, these days, he remained quite aloof and noncommital when one of them asked him for advice or tried to get his support for a particular legislative goal.

Alfred, by in large, had purposefully turned himself into a mascot. His government was stable so it's not like they needed him as much as they did before. No more going to war with his troops. No more delivering verbal abuse to his congressmen. And definitely, no more deals with other countries. Their world meetings may be more frequent than that of their leaders, but everyone knew beforehand that going to one was more of a formality than anything.

With that in mind, Alfred didn't feel so guilty that he decided to disappear for a while. The inside of the café was rather spacious and purposefully designed to mimic a small Italian town sort of feel. As always, the place was quite busy and it took a few minutes to fill his order. Since he was America, the servers, however unaware of who he was, were particularly nice to him.

Then, it happened, or at least, he recognized his impulsive urge to do something incredibly stupid. There was a red headed girl, just sitting there minding her own business, eating her dessert. No one was sitting next to her, and Alfred hadn't picked out where he was going to sit yet. America decided it was a sign.

When he sat down, the girl looked up from her dessert briefly, giving him a small smile. So, it's not like he was unwanted. Perhaps, he should order something to eat? He wanted to stick around as long as possible. Maybe, he'd get her something too so they'd have a chance to talk. Some part of Alfred recognized that he might be getting a little pushy, but at least in the states, the girls usually found it charming.

And, it was at this point that his logic failed him. He really hadn't tried to chat up any girls since the nineteen twenties or even thought about this sort of thing since the early nineteen thirties. (Even then, he'd mostly been sulking and not all that happy with how that particular relationship had turned out.)So, he really had no idea if girls still found him charming. (He didn't think Marilyn Monroe counted. She flirted with everyone.) America didn't really know what possessed him to think this way right now. He decided not to question it further, particularly after he looked into her blue eyes.

Then, she smiled, a big old grin that struck America as familiar. America was hit with an astonishing sense of dejavu. He ignored it. Alfred was tired and probably imagining whatever it was he thought he saw. He drank his coffee, hoping to disassociate himself with the stupid part of his brain telling him to go for it. There wasn't much sense in sweet talking a girl, only to disappear off the face of the earth a few weeks later, especially if he wanted to comeback within the next century safely.

"You're Alfred right?"

That caught his attention and not in a good way, he tensed. Alfred tried not to show his discomfort. He was quite well known in town. (He frequented this area regularly.) There wasn't a reason to overreact yet. It's not like she had called him America or anything.

"That's right. Have people been going on about me?"

She took a bite of her dessert and shrugged.

"You could say that."

Bleh, he didn't like the ambiguous answer. It gave him the impression that she might know more than she should. And another thing, she seemed to be deliberately avoiding eye contact with him.

"Look at me, when I'm talking to you."

As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn't. He was the one who sat next to her and saying that made him sound like a demanding prick. She didn't take him seriously though. The girl laughed and answered.

"Are you sure? You might regret it."

America was having trouble actually tasting his coffee. He was too distracted. The girl made him antsy, like there was something wrong with her. Alfred wasn't sure how to respond. Why would she even ask his permission? It didn't make sense to him.

"If you really want me to look at you, I'll look at you."

And, she did. Her deep blue eyes locked onto his, and he had trouble looking away. He put his coffee cup down, afraid he would spill it on himself at this rate. She leaned in closer which only made him tense up even more.

"Relax, Alfred, you've had a long day. You're tired aren't you?"

America nodded, unsure why he bothered to respond. It seemed to happen automatically. He yawned, a little surprised when his eyes began to droop. Alfred still couldn't look away and struggled to keep his eyes on her.

"I bet you just want to lay your head on the table and close your eyes," she said.

That did seem like a good idea. These people knew him so they probably wouldn't care if he closed his eyes for a second or two, just to rest them a tiny bit. He laid his head on the table still looking at her. His eyes wouldn't close, not while hers were trained on him.

"Give me your number."

She put her cell phone in his hand and had him close his fingers around it.

"But I don't even know your name," he said, a little bit of common sense kicking in now that he wasn't looking into her eyes. He noted that he'd begun dialing the number without even realizing it.

"It's Amy."

He nodded and smiled, putting the phone back on the table. There was something off about this girl. He should just take his coffee and go. She'd probably understand.

"See ya Amy, I think I'm going to head out."

The girl frowned as if he'd done something wrong. America didn't want to be stand offish, but she'd made him uncomfortable.

"Amelia Earhart."

This confused him, and he unwittingly looked into her eyes.

"Amelia Earhart," she repeated. America made the association this time. Come to think of it, she did kind of look like her. He didn't find her stare so unnerving anymore. Yeah, she did look like Amelia Earhart, and she was pretty. Why was he in hurry to leave again? He hadn't even finished his coffee yet.

"Alfred, you're tired aren't you?"

America had just come back from a very long flight. He yawned again. The coffee hadn't really woken him up like he planned. Maybe, they accidentally gave him decaf.

"Yes."

Her smile got bigger. She grabbed hold of his hand. He let her.

"Very tired," she repeated. Why did she keep mentioning how tired he was? She wasn't helping. Alfred wanted to stay awake and look at her eyes.

"You said that already."

She didn't really acknowledge him, per say. The girl just tipped his head so he had a better look at her eyes. Alfred enjoyed the view. The deep dark pools seemed to turn into a slow moving whirlpool.

"Repeat it."

"Very tired."

Alfred was tired. So, he figured it was okay to say so if she wanted to hear it.

"But you want to whisper your number in my ear before you go don't you?"

Wait, no. There was something strange going on. He didn't want to see her again, but he also didn't want to look away. Alfred was conflicted. He went with his gut.

"No."

She wasn't disappointed like he expected her to be. Instead, a look of pity crossed her face, and she rubbed his cheek with her thumb in small circular motions. It was distracting.

"Of course not, you're too tired to remember your number."

And, just like that, his phone number was gone. He tried to remember though. Vaguely, he thought to check his phone, but that would mean he would have to look away. He stayed put.

"That's right. I'm sorry."

"In fact, you're so tired you don't remember your address, right?"she asked.

Shit. He didn't. Looks like he would have to call someone in the White House and see if they remembered. They kept a list of his residences somewhere. Going through all the security measures sucked though. How could he forget so easily?

His brain was quick to rationalize what happened. America had a lot of things running through his head day to day. He was bound to forget a thing or two sometimes. And, the sudden amnesia was probably because he hadn't rested yet. He decided not to worry about it.

"Huh? I guess not."

"So, why don't you talk to me a while?"

America didn't have anywhere else to be, but again, there was something in her eyes other than the calm serene feeling that kept him from agreeing. There was an ambitious little greedy spark there, and he didn't want to indulge that.

"You're doing something to me with your eyes. I don't like it," he said.

There was no way he would have stuck around otherwise. Still, the knowledge hadn't surfaced until she asked. America was still very much ensnared, and he berated himself for telling her his suspicions directly. He was usually better at feigning obliviousness.

"Nonsense, you just think my eyes are very pretty. You can't help but stare at them."

No. No. Stop looking. Blink. Do something. Call congress. Heck, call England. He knows about this freaky crap. Just stop looking into those unnatural beautiful eyes. He drew a blank suddenly, and her suggestion stuck.

"They are pretty,"

"Thank you, and I bet I remind you of Amelia Earhart. You loved her."

America replied back automatically, already associating the two together.

"I loved Amelia Earhart."

"So, you love me."

This wasn't even close. He recognized that. Even, if they did look the same, Alfred didn't feel the same way. It's the same reason that Marilyn imitators didn't strike his fancy. He instinctively knew the difference.

"No."

She let that go too. This girl didn't seem to have a particular plan in mind. From what he could gather in his increasingly fogging mind, she was just testing the water to see what stuck.

"But you're my country," she said. That really should have made him nervous, but considering the circumstances, he accepted the idea readily. Yes, she knew who he was.

"Yeah."

"So, you have to do what I say right?"

The question wasn't innocent, and for now, he still had some control. He wasn't planning to give her anymore access to his mind than he already had.

"That's not exactly how it works, no."

America would have gone off on a rant about the legislative process and what exactly he was obligated to do, but he seemed restricted to short responses. No thinking. That was troubling. He had to keep thinking to get himself out of this.

"I guess you're right. You're very tired after all. You don't have the strength to even get up I bet," she said.

Damn her, he suddenly felt weak. America wasn't used to feeling weak. He didn't struggle, and if someone were to see that two of them in the booth, it would only look like he was nodding off. No help there. Still, Alfred desperately wished someone would interrupt them and give him a chance to escape.

"Hmm . . . no, I guess not," Alfred still found himself overly calm despite his inner struggle. She had told him to relax and he was relaxed in spite of what was happening. Maybe, she had arranged it so his drink was drugged? No, America hadn't even finished his coffee, and the people here knew him. They wouldn't do that to him. So, why was it so hard to look away?

"So, you'll listen to me?" she asked.

No. America wouldn't. Sure, their biology was a mystery even to themselves at times, but surely, a person shouldn't be able to influence him so easily. Surely, he should be strong enough to get up and leave.

"Yes."

This wasn't a normal girl. Under the sleepy cloud, he felt an inkling of fear. Was someone or some organization trying to capture him? He'd seen enough movies to be paranoid.

"Close your eyes and listen to my voice," she said.

There wasn't much debate in his head this time. He was tired and she was finally letting him close his eyes. His fatigue worked against him, and Alfred waited for her to say something.

"You're very tired, so tired, you don't want to think. Don't think, just listen and answer."

His final defense was stripped away. There was only a black void now and a heavy feeling. One, he hadn't noticed before. She kept telling him how tired he was and how heavy his tired muscles felt. That must be it. She was slowly chipping away as his conscious mind and putting him to sleep.

"You're my country right?"

She'd asked him that before. He remembered the answer.

"Yes."

There was a pause. He waited, even though he knew what she would say.

"So, you have to do what I say?"

Isn't that what he was doing now? Listening and doing what she asked, he seemed unable to refuse her anything. So, he answered accordingly.

"Yes."

"Good, picture a stair way, keep going down, deeper and deeper, relax more and more."

There was a staircase now. He was grateful to have something to do. The black abyss was boring and mind numbing. He supposed that it was supposed to be that way. This was the place where he stuck everything he didn't want to think about, and the place he slept.

"You want to relax don't you?"

He had been feeling rather stressed. Maybe, he should take a nap, just a nap. He was on vacation. If this helped him relax, it was worth a try.

"Yes."

America felt strange as if someone was trying to drown him in a pool and a bunch of panicked voices were screaming at him to fight back. He didn't see anything in the darkness which allowed him to dismiss the voices as imaginary. The less he struggled the better he felt. So, he absently kept going down the stairs essentially depriving himself of oxygen metaphorically.

There was something attractive about being deprived of outside stimulus. He felt free, even though he wasn't. The sensation was odd. Not in a terrible way, America simply wasn't used to it. Like the taste of chocolate, the comfortable feeling spread and melted into his insides and after his initial panic he accepted the change without complaint.

"And, you're tired of being in control all the time aren't you?"

Normally, a question like that would have sent America running, or at the very least, he would have laughed nervously and made a mental note to never sit next to her again. At the moment, the voice didn't seem so threatening, and it was the only outside party he could hear.

His brain was already susceptible to outside influences. Except, there was usually a comfortable barrier between him and all people inhabiting his domain with only select messages getting through. Common ones were we don't want to go to war, we need more jobs, and sometimes, it was as simple as help us.

So, when she asked, he felt compelled to answer.

"Yes."

A lingering resistance told him he was wrong. That it was the exact opposite of what he wanted. And yet, Alfred had run away. There was too much to do. Couldn't someone else take care everything? The desire to keep his eyes closed and enjoy the nice warm blanket of darkness intensified. There wasn't a reason to fight this growing sense of peace. It was like honey had been inserted directly into his mouth. America swallowed the sweetness with unabashed enthusiasm. America's apathy drowned the voice out. He was too content to be stirred into action. So, he kept lapping up the honey, forgetting any reason why he might want to wake up. His current captor had a thick delicious hold on him, and America wasn't sure if he ever wanted to be freed.

"Keep going deeper and deeper in your mind, the further you go the more relaxed and carefree you become, just like before. You like the feeling don't you?"

The stupefying honey was replaced with an adrenaline rush so unexpected that he briefly opened his eyes, disoriented. Where was he? Who was that girl?

The girl closed his eyes, and he obediently lay his head on the table, practically catatonic. The dark abyss was replaced by electrifying images. He was standing in the rain, feeling the cold seep through him. He wanted to run, and keep running until he ran out of breath. There was nothing in his way, only a giant grassland to accommodate him. A refreshing bubbling feeling possessed him to run and keep running, until the image changed again.

This time, he was in a bathtub. The sudden warmth after the previous cold made him shiver and sink into the water. It had been so long since he had a bubble bath. He noticed the rubber ducky in the water. Alfred didn't even consider the idea that playing with the rubber ducky might lead to untold humiliation and grabbed it. No one was here but him. He was free to do whatever he wanted. So, he played with his toys, laughing and imagining all sorts of things until he was transported somewhere else in his mind.

Now, he was laying on top of a hill. One of his bunnies was on his head, nibbling his hair. America didn't care. He was staring at all the stars above. So, many stars, he could look at them forever. The stars seemed to spiral out of control. Alfred paid rapt attention as they started to turn and turn like his personal bright shimmery milky way.

The images continued to change and feed Alfred what he wanted to see. And, the country eagerly accepted the brief instances of pure exhilaration and relaxation, immersing himself completely into a dreamlike state.

"Yes," he sighed happily. America was vaguely aware that the girl had started running her fingers through his hair. This slowly refocused his attention on the girl, forcing him to abandon the myriad of images sending him into a state of total euphoria. This left him dazed and empty. What was he doing? He opened his eyes. The girl took advantage of this and tilted his head forward.

Those eyes . . .

"You miss the feeling don't you?"

"Yes," Alfred said without any hesitation. Maybe, she'd let him go back to sleep now if he answered quickly. He wanted to sink back into his metaphorical covers and enjoy himself some more.

"Every time, you look at me, feel that feeling,"she said. The change was instant. Looking into her eyes was no longer a burden but a pleasure, one he couldn't bare to be without.

"Okay," he said smiling a goofy grin. Amy slipped her phone between his fingers. America looked at it unable to recognize it for what it was. He was too far gone to recall.

"Without waking up, type your number into my phone," she said, waiting patiently. Right. Phone. Type. Now. There, that should be the right number. Maybe? (He had feeling he'd forgotten what it was at some point.) He pressed save and gave her back the phone.

"When you hear me say a rocket's red glare, you'll feel nice and relaxed like you do now. Won't that be fun Alfred?"

America heard her, but the words didn't make sense to him. He felt incredibly dizzy all of a sudden. Why couldn't he close his eyes? He wanted to close his eyes.

"Mhmm," he mumbled.

"When I say the Bombs bursting in air, you'll wake up. Okay?"

The phrase registered, but he didn't comprehend what it was for. It was to help him wake up, right? That was nice of her. He liked Amy. She reminded him of Amelia Earhart.

"Sure."

"Bombs bursting in air,"

With a sudden jolt, America stood upright, rubbing his eyes. Wow. Had he really fallen asleep at the café? He probably should have rested a little when he dropped off his things beforehand. The girl was still there. Her dessert finished. Crap, she wasn't waiting for him to wake up was she?

"I must have fallen asleep. Sorry."

She put a hand on his shoulder. He tensed and relaxed, unsure why looking at her made him want to laugh and fall asleep at the same time. Or, why he suddenly wanted to give her his address? Bad America, you promised not to draw attention to yourself. Don't invite strangers to your house. He told himself. The longer he stared at her, the more tempting the idea became.

" Don't worry about it. You'll come back tomorrow and visit me won't you?"

Well, that solved his problem.

"I'd like that," Alfred said, standing up. His smile faltering slightly. The uneasiness washed away when he took one last look at her. His last thought before leaving the Café was he should get her a bomber jacket.

* * *

**_Yeah, I wanted to read a good hypnosis story and couldn't find one I personally liked. So, here we are. Chapters of my others stories will be worked on, particularly the big three. Since, I finished the first chapter. I just wanted to throw this up there and see if people like the idea._**


	2. How Deeply You Affect Me

How Deeply You Affect Me

America kept looking at the clock. He couldn't help himself. His craving for coffee was too strong this morning. Of course, Alfred could hypothetically make his own cup, but he promised to go the café. Lots of people went to cafés in the morning, it wasn't a big deal. So what if he'd planned to sleep in and had woken up at seven a.m. instead, pathetically waiting for the café to open. Alfred didn't really understand why he couldn't get his mind to focus on anything else. He needed to get groceries or at the very least write down his address in case he forgot again. Having to call the White House and tell them he forgot his address had been humiliating and answering their questions had been a pain, they had even tried to convince him to come home in case he was having a psychotic break or something. He'd refused. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his head. So, why had he stared at a clock all morning?

His phone rang. America sighed. The president probably got wind of what happened. Putting his best smile on, he answered. Alfred didn't recognize the voice on the other end at first. Then, he vaguely remembered giving Amy his phone number for some . . . reason. Which Alfred still couldn't justify, he hadn't even given the old couple down the street his number, and he'd known them far longer. Alfred really shouldn't have given it to her. He was supposed to relax, not flirt with people he had no future with, ( not that he could have a terribly long future with a human.)

"You're bored aren't you?"

America frowned. Was this girl psychic or something? Well, Alfred didn't want to change numbers over something this silly. He might as well humor her.

"Yes, I'm feeling kind of out of it. I've been staring at a clock all morning."

The words came out before he could stop them. America groaned inwardly. Why would he even mention that? Amy laughed on the other end.

"Why would you do that?"

It was a very good question. The only thing he knew for sure was the impulse to look at the clock was there. Alfred wasn't about to tell her that he was wasting his time staring at the clock for no reason.

"It helps me relax."

There, that should be a decent excuse. She giggled this time. Alfred wasn't sure she believed him, but if Alfred had learned anything over the years was that it was better to stick to the lie you started with rather than try to come up with a better one after the fact.

"I can see that. The way it constantly ticks in a nice repetitive cycle is very attractive to you. Isn't it Alfred?"

He blinked, wondering if he heard that right. This girl always said strange things like that. And yet, he did find himself looking up at the clock again. Maybe, he did like watching the time pass by.

"Yeah, I guess so."

When he didn't hear anything else, he started to think his phone dropped the call. Then, he heard her breathing on the other end. More surprisingly, he heard her say, not now, I'm busy to someone in the room.

"Who else is with you?"

Alfred winced. He sounded defensive. Texas had left him with some trust issues, most of which hadn't completely disappeared. She must have held the phone away from her as he only heard her muttering angrily at someone.

"Sorry about that, some people are**_ impatient_** and don't understand things take**_ time_**," she huffed.

America frowned. Amy didn't answer his question, and something else was definitely going on. He killed the urge to look this girl up. Lately, he'd been more than willing to invade people's privacy. Alfred was trying not to embody that despite the social changes that had made doing a background check as simple as typing her name in a computer engine. Technically, he could look her up right now.

"Alfred? Are you listening?"

"Yes," he answered automatically. There was a strange disconnect between what he said and what he was actually thinking. Alfred dismissed the idea. He had been distracted, and it finally occurred to him that he didn't know this girl's last name either.

"What's your last name?"

Amy didn't answer, and again, he heard her talking to someone else.

"Is someone else with you?"

America knew exactly how he sounded, but this was starting to annoy him. Amy had called him, and if she wanted to talk to someone else, he might as well hang up the phone.

"Uhm, just an associate, a really annoying associate, who is going away now. Right?"she hissed, most of her anger directed at the person in the room with her.

Okay, America knew that shouldn't have made him feel better, but it did. His hearing was exceptional, but there was a notable increase in static on the other end, like she had stuffed the phone under a pillow. He only heard faint signs of a struggle taking place. It made him nervous. She even sounded out of breath when she picked up the phone again.

"Is everything okay?"

She took a minute or two to steady her breathing. She laughed nervously.

"Yeah, I just had to stuff something in the closet."

America didn't like the sound of that. When he first met her, there was something about her that struck him as wrong. Alfred had even noticed a malevolent gleam in her eyes when they met face to face. He frowned again. More contact with this girl was a bad idea. Picturing her, he started having second thoughts. He liked Amy. She reminded him of Amelia Earhart. Alfred was overreacting. It's not like he could see what was going on. Maybe, she had just stuffed her shoes in the closet.

"That's fine," he yawned, laying down on the couch so he could stare at the clock again. Tick. Tick. Tick. She said something.

"Huh?"

"Are you looking at the clock again?"

He looked away. Very sure, he was at least a little red. Alfred had way too much free time in his hands.

"No."

"It's okay to look at the clock, America. You want to relax don't you?"

Without meaning to, America checked the clock again. Tick. Tick. Tick. He made himself more comfortable on the couch until he was practically a part of it. She said something else. He couldn't understand it.

"What?"

"Keep looking at the clock, imagine that with each tick, your body gets heavier and heavier. Do you feel that Alfred?"

He nodded, feeling like parts of his body were slowly being replaced with lead. Something was weighing him down. For a brief moment, he felt the urge to sit upright and fight the imaginary burden. She interrupted his thought process.

"Answer."

"Yes."

He had trouble remembering why he wanted to get up. His body didn't want to get up. And . . . he needed to keep . . . he yawned.

"You're feeling tired aren't you?"

"Can't move," he mumbled.

"That's too bad. Do you want me to help?"

Did he need help? No, he was just a little drowsy from staring at the clock too long.

"Just keep talking to me, you're keeping me awake," he drawled.

"Okay, America, the clock face has turned into a black and white spiral. Do you see that?"

America tilted his head, confused. The clock had indeed turned into a spiral.

"Yeah, that's weird."

"Stare at the center of the spiral, is it spinning yet, America?"

The thing started to spin, and he didn't think to look away. He should. Cartoon villains used that to hypnotize super heroes all the time, but Amy wouldn't do that. He liked her. She reminded him of Amelia Earhart.

"Yes."

"The longer you look at it, the more relaxed you'll become. Are you relaxed, America?"

There was no question his body was relaxed already, and his mind was slowly slipping away from him. He had to go somewhere didn't he? There was something he wanted . . .

"Yes."

Is that all his vocabulary consisted of now? Yes? He really should look away. The spiral was obviously affecting him, and he was talking to someone on the phone. He didn't want to fall asleep on her.

"Rocket's Red Glare."

Alfred's drowsiness increased ten fold. He tried to shake it off and keep talking, but it was getting harder to think straight. He kept staring at the stupid spiral. Actually, the spiral wasn't so bad to look at, calming even. Wait. What did she say?

"Could you repeat that?"

She stifled a giggle. He probably deserved that for almost nodding off.

"Rocket's Red Glare."

Alfred closed his eyes, returning to the familiar darkness. He could use some more sleep. There never did seem to be enough time to close his eyes and take a nap. They always wanted to talk to him about something.

"Can you hear me, America?"

That voice, he'd heard that voice before. She was the one that took him places.

"Yes."

What was so bad about the word yes anyway? He didn't get to say it often. He was always busy . . . always uncertain . . . always afraid.

"You like this feeling don't you?"

Feeling? Alfred didn't feel anything at first. Then, a warm fluid sensation filled him as if someone had been kind enough to pour hot cocoa into his brain. He allowed the almost tangible new thing to wash over him and suffocate him with sweetness. Like wasn't a strong enough word, he loved this feeling.

"Yes." he smiled when he said it.

"You want to feel it again, right?"

He could feel this way all the time? Whenever he wanted? He almost dropped the phone in his eagerness to answer. After he caught it, America absently realized that his reflexes had slowed down. Alfred decided he was just that relaxed.

"Yes, all the time," he repeated. Amy seemed to make an astonished sound as if she hadn't expected him to say yes.

"All the time?"

"Yes, I want to feel this way all the time."

Who wouldn't want to be relaxed all the time? He didn't see what the big deal was. She could do that right? She had done something to him.

"Listen very carefully, every time, I say rocket's red glare, you'll fall into a deep trance, always deeper than the one before, because you like being hypnotized don't you America? "

America wasn't really thinking anymore, only feeling, and he felt good. He wanted to keep feeling good.

"Yes, Amy."

"And, you'll give me your address so we can keep having fun right?"

There wasn't any resistance left in America. She might as well have asked an attention starved dog if she could come into the house. He gave her the address and even offered to have keys made for her. She sounded surprised, mentioning something about him being able to express independent thought. America didn't get it. He was always independent. It's what people knew him for.

"Thank you for being such a good subject, America, and here I thought this was going to be hard, but you really are a lonely little personification aren't you?"

The idea sunk in. Who did he really talk to on a regular basis? He hung out with Tony a lot, who usually came and went as he pleased. America liked the alien, but there were long stretches when he wouldn't come at all. Alfred always thought Tony considered visiting him more of a hobby than anything. Tony must have alien friends at home that he'd rather spend time with. The whale was . . . well, it was a whale. Their ability to converse was limited to what a whale considered important. (It usually involved food or what the whale saw that day.) His brother? Yes, his brother visited often, but he was kind of obligated to. Wasn't he? There was usually more to his visits than hey, I'd thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing. There were people coming and going into Canada and America all the time. He had very good reasons for keeping in touch. And, he didn't talk to him as often, but England usually didn't sound all that happy he called when he did. America usually dismissed his unfriendly greeting as his natural reaction to almost everything, but maybe, he didn't want America calling so much. And, maybe, America was just a little bit lonely.

"America, are you listening?"

"I'm lonely."

"I can come over if you want. You'll let me in, won't you?"

Of course, he'd let Amy in. He liked her. She reminded him of Amelia Earhart.

"Yes, I like you. You remind me of Amelia Earhart."

She laughed, and America didn't really understand why. He just listened and decided he liked the sound. He wanted to make her laugh more often.

"Wow, that really stuck, say, will you answer some questions for me?"

That's all he'd been doing for . . . sometime. He wasn't sure how long. The spiral had replaced the clock. America didn't mind. They were easy questions. All he had to do was say yes most of the time, like now.

"Yes."

"Good America, when you wake up and let me in, you won't be able to lie to me. Do you understand?"

She wasn't asking his permission anymore. That should bother him. The thought was like a cloud floating by. He saw it but didn't do anything more than stare at it. America didn't see the harm. She already knew his big secret anyway, and he didn't want to be lonely.

"Yes, I trust you."

He heard her drop her phone on the other end. She cursed and picked it up quickly.

"Good America, of course, you can trust me. I'm the one that can make you happy with just three little words. You like that don't you?"

He did like that. America wanted to be happy. Amy could make him happy so he should trust her. That made sense to him, he should agree. Again, another thought floated by, this one was a lot less subtle. She's manipulating you, dumbass. Hmm . .. The message must be from Texas. He was quick to tell her she was just jealous. Texas left his consciousness but knew better than to actually separate. He'd made that very clear. I hope she makes you cluck like a chicken, she told him bitterly.

"Yes, I like it a lot."

""Good America, I think it's time to wake up."

"No."

He didn't want to wake up. Then, he'd be all nervous and anxious without any idea of what to do with himself for the next few weeks. If he stayed here, he could drift endlessly in this sweet ambrosia with no sound or thought entering his head. (Other than Amy but she was welcome. Amy made him happy.)

"Don't be that way, Alfred. I promise to be there soon. Looking at me makes you happy too, doesn't it?"

Yes, in a very different way, it was like someone was trying to resuscitate him with shocks and stuff chocolates in his mouth at the same time. So, it was a hot mess of chocolate and electricity pulsing through him. Other times, it was just like this, a warm sweet ocean with the most attractive fragrance he'd ever smelled entering his nostrils.

"Yes Amy, you're very pretty."

Amy had very pretty eyes. She made him happy. He liked red heads and blonds, but he definitely liked red heads more now. She didn't say anything for a long time. He waited. It's not like he could get up or think. Alfred could only hear her voice, and that was just fine.

"Do you love me?"

There was a pang. Some part of him didn't like the question. The other part repeated what he already knew. She had very pretty eyes. She made him feel good. She reminded him of Amelia Earhart. He frowned. Those were mostly physical traits, and good feelings didn't necessarily mean he loved her. America didn't want to lie. He couldn't find anything substantial that told him this is why you love this girl. It almost seemed fake, but he trusted Amy. So, he told her the truth and discarded his suspicions.

"I'm not sure."

She sighed, sounding relieved. America wasn't sure how he felt about that. Did she want him to say yes? Or did she find him annoying like England did?

"Don't worry. You don't have to love me. We won't be together very long anyway."

The warm pleasant lull ended. Another pang, this one more distinct and paralyzing. He was afraid. She didn't come back last time. He sat upright, eyes still unfocused but more aware.

"Why?"

Amy let out a shaky breath as if she wasn't expecting him to ask. He thought he heard her bed squeak. America's mind started calculating, still working at a snail's pace. He saw her at the café. She must live nearby. Alfred felt motivated to claw his way out of his stupor. If he kept her on the phone long enough, he should be able to trace her call. If only he could get up, he could set that up. Get up, America. Get up.

"People die Alfred. You don't want to be sad, do you?"

This irritated him, and without the ability to think clearly, he became incensed. So, she would die later. America wanted her _now_. He stood up, trying to remember where he left his equipment.

"I don't care. Don't run away, I'll find you."

He sounded more threatening than he intended. There was also a an underlying desperation that he wished wasn't so present. She might hang up on him. Amy sighed.

"I can't really keep you."

That should have snapped him out of it. That should have made him call somebody, but he could only think why not? He wanted to be kept although some part of him told him that he was confused and that trying to talk her into such an arrangement wasn't in his best interest.

"Then, I'll keep you."

America wasn't sure how. Maybe, he would take away her passport, erase evidence of her existence, and keep her here . . . or something less psychotic. He really needed to get some coffee inside him. He wasn't thinking straight.

"America, when you wake up, you're going to feel nice and refreshed and will completely wipe any memory of me asking if you love me. Do you understand?" she said, deliberately commanding now. America didn't respond well to it.

"No, you're not running away."

She wasn't going to walk away from him this time. She wasn't going to marry someone else. He drank some bitter leftover coffee to get him going. Wait. She wasn't Amelia Earhart. He shook his head. There was still a thick empty feeling inside that was making rational thinking difficult.

"Fine. If your priorities are that screwed up, I'll stay with you. And, you'll buy me lots of expensive things so I'll stay, won't you?"

The electrifying sugar rush returned, and it helped him refocus. Maybe, Amy wasn't Amelia Earhart, but she was close enough. His brain warned him that wasn't a good idea. America would only be disappointed when they were nothing alike. Shaking and still suffering the affects of that short blissful adrenaline rush, Alfred sat down. Remembering that the spiral helped him relax, he stared at it and felt the familiar liquid drown his senses. He lay down. She'd asked him for something. If he said no, she wouldn't stay, and he desperately wanted her to stay.

"Yes, Amy, please stay, I'll make you very happy."

America was very good at making people happy when he set his mind to it.

"I'm sure you will. Bombs bursting in air."

Alfred yelped, something had shocked him. He slowly lowered himself back onto the couch. He was exhausted. For reasons beyond him right now, he had expected to wake up nice and refreshed. Oh well, he needed to take it easy for a while. America probably had a nightmare. Normally, he was a sound sleeper.

Strangely, Alfred didn't mind staring at the clock anymore. It was very relaxing. In fact, he dozed off after staring at it too long.

The bell rang. Alfred scrambled to get the door open. He'd been wanting company. Amy? When did she find out where he lived? He looked at her, finding himself craving chocolate and some handcuffs at the same time. America shook his head to snap out of it. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. America really wanted to talk to someone. Anyone would do, and she was right here, conveniently at his door step.

"Hi Amy, I think you might be a stalker, but I'm lonely enough not to care." He put a hand over his mouth right after he said that. Obviously, he was still very tired. America had to be careful what he said.

"Oh Roosevelt, I'm turning into Russia."

America blushed, unable to stop himself. Then, it hit him like a ton of bricks. He'd said Russia instead of Ivan. America tensed, particularly when Amy didn't look that surprised.

"Let me in, America, and we can talk about it. You trust me, don't you?" she said, looking right at him. America had the instinct to turn away. This was bad . . . for some reason. No, wait. He could trust her. She made him feel good. America didn't want her to go away. In fact, he needed a pair of handcuffs to keep her there. He slapped himself to vanquish the Russia like thoughts.

Preoccupied with his sudden desire to hold her hostage, he let her in without a fuss. She sat down, taking up the entire sofa. He decided to sit on the recliner while he worked out how to stop himself from going through with said thoughts. She watched him pace back and forth for a while before calling him. Alfred froze in place. Must not kidnap citizen of the United States.

"Alfred, come over here."

"I can't. I'm planning to knock you out and convince you stay forever after you're too far gone to care."

He covered his mouth again, even if it didn't seem to help any. Amy stiffened, not looking quite as sweet as she did in the cafe. He didn't blame her.

"America you want to be the hero don't you?"

America nodded, feeling guilty. Very un-heroic thoughts were passing through his brain right now. She smiled, giving him a hug. He responded by lifting her up in the air. She gasped, not expecting to be hoisted in the air like a flag.

"Alfred, I need a place to stay. So, if you really want me around, I suggest you put me down and have a key made for me." Her smile wasn't as enthusiastic as before, and she was trying to pry herself loose. America found her vulnerable panicky expression cute. He could keep her up in the air all flustered like that indefinitely. Alfred's face fell. Normal people didn't have creepy thoughts like that. He was turning into Russia. America put her down. She hugged herself and glared at him.

"Don't be mad. I'll get you a key and some jewelry?" he asked. America wasn't sure why he decided to bribe her or why he'd started so high. He was rewarded with another hug. Alfred slowly wrapped his arms around her to see if she reacted better to that. Amy relaxed, and they hugged a little longer than necessary.

"Thank you. The other guy was really annoying."

America narrowed his eyes.

"What other guy?"

Amy's fist clenched and she stomped her foot. America's expression softened. He was probably overreacting. She had called him annoying. His emotions were all over the place.

"Rocket's red glare."

America's eyes shut without a second thought. He dived right into the murky abyss sinking deeper into its depths than before. After going so deep, he hesitated, unsure where he was headed. He would stay where he was for now. America practically swallowed the brain rotting goodness letting it slosh around his insides. And, he relaxed, shutting down his system so he was only vaguely aware of his surroundings. The warm sticky liquid he had felt so intimately before was only a fleeting fancy now. A pleasant numbness set in and he strained to hear her voice. Surely, she would say something to him soon. She always did.

"America, you will stop acting like a deranged psychopath. You think of me as a _sister_. Do you understand? I'm sick of your jealous rages, and I've only known you a _day_. If I'd know this is how you treat people in relationship, I wouldn't have even suggested it. I don't want you to like me that way anymore."

America was too deep in the darkness to feel angry. He thought through the situation logically. He liked Amy. She reminded him of Amelia Earhart. He loved Amelia Earhart, but he did not like Amelia Earhart like a sister. Therefore, he couldn't treat Amy like a sister.

"No."

He was in too deep to add anything else unless she asked. Amy sputtered, and he was vaguely aware of being hit several times outside the darkness. Since it wasn't painful, he didn't try to get up. She shouted at him this time. He could feel his body flinch. She never shouted at him.

"What do you mean no? You have to do what I tell you, America. You don't love me."

America vaguely remembered agreeing to that. He couldn't see why he would. He disliked being told what to do. He wasn't sure how to respond. The solution turned out to be relatively easy. Amy told him not to lie.

"Not unless I want to," he said. America ignored the second statement. He still wasn't sure. Girls took that line very seriously. He liked Amy. She reminded him of Amelia Earhart. He didn't want her to go away. Amy sighed.

"Will you stop acting creepy?"

America didn't want to scare her off. He'd tone it down. America didn't want to think like Russia anyway. He wasn't sure where the impulse had come from.

"Yes, I'm sorry."

She hugged his body. He couldn't hug back. America had to wait for her to release him before he could do anything. He didn't mind. It was like taking a sedative. You were still there, only a lot more agreeable and very suggestible as well as completely detached from your body.

"America when you wake up, you'll embody your southern persona. You will change into a western outfit and bake me a pie. Bombs bursting in air."

He felt a shock that rattled him awake. A pretty girl was holdin' him. It took him a second or two to remember what was going on. America was hungry. He'd spent so much time looking at that darn clock. He hadn't eaten yet. Hmm . . . he liked getting hugged. Alfred decided food was the quickest way to undo her previous misgivings on his character. There was nuthin' like southern cooking to change someone's mind. Besides, girls liked men that could cook.

"You want some pie?"

Amy smiled noticing the subtle change in accent. She whispered into his ear.

"The clothes first." Alfred blinked, not getting it. He looked down and realized he was dressed like a city slicker. That wouldn't do at all. He probably had sumthin that would work upstairs. Alfred pecked her on the cheek .

"I'll be right back, youngin." America smirked when she blushed. He was going to have some fun with this one. It wasn't often he let himself be southern.


	3. Or How Blind I Could Be

Or How Blind I Could Be

Amy was quite aware she was a manipulative sadistic person, but now, she was a manipulative sadistic person with pie and what a delicious pie it was. She hadn't told him what type of pie to make. So, he'd gone with a classic apple pie. And frankly, the store bought pies tasted like garbage compared to this pie. The hot cinnamon apple goodness was worth the wait.

Oh and she was enjoying the show too. Sometimes, she quite liked the stereotypical nature of the countries she played with. They tended to have an outfit for every occasion. America had changed into a denim shirt and black jeans, nothing that would stand out too much in a crowd. The fancy black boots and the white bandana around his neck might raise a few eyebrows. The best part was he did have a white Stetson hat lying in his deluxe Chicago apartment, just because. It wasn't a typical cowboy outfit, but it was close enough.

The kitchen was rather spacious, but she'd expected as much when she heard who her next target was. The state of the art stainless steel fridge and stove together with the granite table tops only reminded her that it might have been a mistake to jump so quickly at Yong Soo's offer. The sum was generous, but her pay simply reflected the dangerous nature of what she was attempting. No, it would be much better to milk this as much as she could and slip away before someone became suspicious of her presence. She'd approached him now because he was currently as isolated as a country could get these days. Amy would politely give South Korea back his money and get as much as she could from America before he returned to Washington because that was a place she definitely did not want to be.

Now, it wasn't really that this version was better or anything. There were just a few subtle differences that she really enjoyed. (Granted, she hadn't known him long enough to make a fair assessment.) One, he was constantly whistling some tune or other. If she asked what he was whistling, he would sometimes break into song, and America did have a good set of pipes. Two, he was ridiculously friendly to the point were she was sure he was purposely flirting with her. Three, she just really had a thing for cowboys, and if the FBI ever got a hold of her, she wanted to make sure it had been worth her while to mess with the United States. So, on her big fat checklist, the first item happened to be make him act like a cowboy.

Her phone rang and she reluctantly stopped paying attention to America. He hadn't been doing anything particularly interesting, just fixing the sink. She just couldn't seem to look away. It was actually kind of hilarious to watch. He didn't seem to be that good at fixing things. When he made a mistake, he'd start shouting a slew of curses before remembering she was here. Alfred would then apologize and keep going. This had happened three times already.

"Lisa, you have to try this pie."

Lisa laughed on the other end. It was an unpleasant giggle snort. Frankly, her laugh was the most ungraceful part of her persona. Lisa could easily impersonate a princess. She seemed to be in some sort of crowd in a city judging by the car whizzing by and the amount of people talking around her.

"I'm afraid. I'm nowhere near you right now."

Amy thought so. She was just ridiculously excited by the pie.

"Where are you? Maybe, I'll stop by after I'm done here."

Lisa's last assignment had been rather simple. Amy doubted she was still there, considering who her target was. Lisa didn't answer right away.

"That's actually why I called you. I'm still in France."

"You were supposed to get information for the drug lords in Mali. What are you still doing there? Do you need me to come down there and rescue you?"

This wasn't good. While extremely effective from the get go, Lisa's power was better suited for short missions. There was a strong possibility France had wised up after her prolonged stay. If she had to cut her losses and wire some money from America's bank account for a quick exit, she would. Lisa was her friend and if she had to get in the line of fire to help her, so be it.

"No, please don't do anything drastic. I just wanted to invite you to the wedding."

Oh hell no, she did not break their number one rule when doing these types of missions.

"Remember what our old boss Charlie said? "

Lisa sighed on the other end.

"I remember. I do not think it is as simple as he made it out to be."

Obviously, France had brainwashed her into thinking this was a good idea. It was freaking France, and Lisa didn't really date. He'd overwhelmed her with his expertise. Amy needed to get down there and smack some sense into her. She had no choice. Wait. Where the hell did her passport go?

"We're historical icons, Miss former Joan of Arc. Our previous nationality makes us vulnerable to manipulation. This is why we're not supposed to take jobs that put us in close contact with our former countries."

"Isn't that what you're doing now?"

Amy couldn't deny that. Then again, it was supposed to be a quick mission. Hypnotize him, give him to Korea after he was susceptible enough to start taking orders, get her money, and bam, she'd be out of here within the week.

America finished fixing the sink. He cleaned his hands with a rag and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He smiled at her and she waved back and pointed to the phone. After dusting himself off, he stood and decided to sit next to her. He leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest, looking her over.

"Who are you talking to?"

Amy shushed him and answered Lisa's question.

"Yes, but I'm not going to marry the guy."

Alfred raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. He made himself busy and served himself a piece of pie. Amy bit her lip. She had to be more careful with her responses.

"I quite like him, and I bet you have Alfred dressed as a cowboy right now."

Amy nearly dropped the phone at the accusation. This is why she didn't like to share things about herself. Cheeks flushed, she was quick to correct her.

"No, he dressed himself."

Alfred laughed, and Amy was sure he had pieced together who they were talking about by now. She frowned. Countries were supposed to have excellent hearing. It was important that he didn't over hear anything that would incriminate her especially. She glared at him and pointed to the living room. He shook his head, taking another bite of his pie.

"The point is you're overreacting, and I've wanted to quit for a while now. If you don't want to come to my wedding, please say so," Lisa said. Her weariness and snappish tone make it obvious that she was mostly looking for an escape. Amy would not let her take the easy way out. Lisa didn't just get to have a happily ever after and absolve herself of everything that happened before. People like them didn't get to quit.

"I will, but only to stop you from making a horrible mistake."

Lisa had only known him for a month. Technically, she was there to screw him over. It would not end well. Whatever fleeting romantic thoughts might have passed through her head, it was only the product of previously star crossed lovers syndrome, and the debate was still on if they were even lovers in the first place.

"Is something wrong?" Alfred asked. Amy put a finger to her lips. She didn't really need him butting in now.

"Shh I'm trying to talk on the phone."

He shrugged and backed off. Lisa sighed on the other end and cursed at her in French. (She'd definitely had gone native.)

"If that is how you feel, I'd rather you didn't come at all."

Amy narrowed her eyes. Apparently, she was uninvited. The whole thing was ridiculous anyway. Sure, he might look like a man but technically he was a hunk of dirt, politics, and French prejudices.

"You can't marry a country. Ask Elly, she tried it once."

Admittedly, this was a stupid card to pull. Elly herself had admitted that it was an off collar remark that also happened to get England's attention. She hadn't even known about country personifications then, but Amy was getting desperate. Pretty soon, Amy and Elly would be the only active working agents. This increased the chance of them getting targeted by their previous organization and anyone else they had rubbed the wrong way. Amy had rubbed_ a lot _of people the wrong way.

"What was that about marrying a country?" America cut in, and she could tell from the look on his face he knew exactly what they were talking about. He just hadn't pinned down who they were talking about. Amy didn't honestly want to answer.

"Alfred, not now," she hissed. As luck would have it, Alfred did hold his tongue, but it was clear that he would be asking a lot of questions when she was done talking on the phone

"From what I understand, Elly's shacking up with Scotland," Lisa replied, delivering this piece of juicy gossip like it was no big deal. Amy wanted to stab herself with a fork. Were they all going crazy or what?

"But why? That would crush England's soul," she said. Okay, so, she was a giant hypocrite, but there was something about it that just struck her as wrong. Elly had been very open about her previous encounters with England, and well, they did actually sound like a couple from what she described where as Lisa's story sounding more like a lady helping a recovering alcoholic. Then again, England hadn't hit rock bottom like France had at the time. Things had been tense, but not march into battle with a girl who claims to hear the voice of God tense.

"What would crush England's soul?" he sounded very close to laughing. Amy really wanted to send him to his room or something, but from their last session, it was obvious that he wasn't going to be as cooperative as she originally thought. She just zipped her lips and pointed at him. He was starting to look annoyed.

"Okay, I lied, but see, it could be worse."

Amy sighed in relief. Lisa could be downright evil when she wanted to be.

"Don't scare me like that again."

There was a small awkward silence, before Lisa spoke.

"So, you'll come?"

"Yes."

This was her last chance to see her after all. With her line of work, she couldn't be hanging around high profile individuals unless they were specifically seeking her services. Surely, Lisa being Francis's wife would complicate things, Amy might call here and there and visit on holidays, but their friendship was basically over otherwise.

"Are you sure you can handle it? I'm sure you'll find it hard controlling him around so many people."

Ah yes, Amy was in the middle of a mission. Hmm . . . he did say he wanted to be hypnotized all the time, and she did like her new toy. She'd find a way to make it work. Maybe, he wouldn't listen to everything she said, but she already had a pretty good hold on him for two days worth of work.

"Oh please, I could make him take off his pants and sing "Lay Down Sally" if I wanted to. I'll be there," she said brightly.

"If you say so," Lisa, still sounded doubtful, but didn't say anything else about it. They exchanged goodbyes, and Amy hung up first. She was about to get up and pack when Alfred grabbed her wrist.

"Could you tell me what's going on?" The guy was deeply suspicious by now, and he didn't seem to like the conclusions he was drawing. Let's see. She could have a serious discussion with him about her life and what she has been doing to him since they met or . . .

"Rocket's Red Glare."

Alfred conked out immediately, looking like he dozed off on the kitchen counter. The hat hid his face, and she found the sleeping cowboy look cute. She took a few minutes to look him over and poke him to test how out of it he truly was. He seemed to mumble something but otherwise stayed put. Satisfied, she decided to get to work.

"Yeah, you didn't hear any of that phone conversation. Understand?" She waited, a little anxious now. Yesterday's response to her hypnosis had been kind of mixed, and she'd made a lot of common mistakes that could have cost her everything. She would try to take it slow today and build up her control a little more, especially since they were going to France for a while. She needed him not to question that too much.

"Yes." There wasn't any sign that he'd thought about it at all. It was the standard hypnotic yes. That was a good sign. Now, to make sure the phone incident didn't repeat itself, she didn't want to be secretive if she didn't have to be.

"In fact, when I'm talking on the phone, you'll find anything I'm talking about boring and tune it out. Okay?" she said. There was a longer pause, and she was worried it wouldn't stick.

"Yes."

Amy, felt a little more confident this time around. As long as she didn't upset him, he seemed perfectly agreeable. She ran her fingers through his hair a few times. His breathing slowed and he sighed contentedly.

"Good America, you like listening to me don't you?"

She noticed framing her suggestion in the form of a question tended to make countries more receptive to the command. America muttered something.

"Answer."

"Yes."

"Because you want to do what I tell you, right?"

She lifted his hat to see if he'd taken the suggestion well or not. His face was scrunched up, and he was a lot tenser than he should be. Time to do some maintenance. She massaged his shoulders, and he unraveled faster than a ball of twine. He mumbled something else. She whispered in his ear.

"How do you feel?"

"Good."

"So, you're not going to worry about anything."

"No."

Ease him into the idea a little more maybe? She might finally be triggering his defenses, particularly, when he was this deep into his subconscious. Based on what she experienced with Russia, a country's subconscious could be scary.

"You're my country right?"

"Yes."

That should be pretty ingrained into his mind by now. Amy wanted to push him into the next level already. She loved having a country at her beck and call, once she got past the initial barriers. Then again, she was usually too chicken to go that far. (Canada had been easy. He lived in a cabin far from civilization. There was like a zero chance of getting caught. The bear had to scare her off after she overstayed her welcome.)

"So, you want to help me?"

"What's wrong?"

Good, his instincts should work in her favor this time. All Amy had to do was guide him in the right direction.

"I need you to trust me."

"I trust you."

So, the conditioning for that was still there. This should be really easy.

"I am in a lot of trouble, and you need to follow my instructions if you want to help."

"Okay."

Of course, he said yes. She made a good damsel in distress. The problem was twisting that into something that would give him the impulse to listen to her regardless of the situation. She decided to take the direct approach.

"No matter what."

He was still a limp spaghetti noodle in her hands, and he didn't tense up at all when she said it, if anything he relaxed even more.

"Fine."

"Even when you're awake," she said.

"Yes Amy."

Hah, she'd have fun watching him freak out the first couple of times. She should move on to her main agenda, now that she set up a nice contingency plan. He couldn't make a scene if she could make him shut up on command.

"You don't like being cooped up do you?"

"No."

He tensed up again but relaxed almost immediately after Amy started massaging his back. She waited until Alfred started making noises of contentment before telling him anything.

"Do you want to go to France with me?"

"Yes."

Amy smiled. She rather liked how suggestible Alfred was. She shook her head. He was just a sack with a dollar sign on it to her. There was no way she was staying longer than . . . well, she honestly would stay until sticking around became too risky.

"And, you're not going to care why we are going because all you want to do is have fun with me."

It wasn't a question. Amy was testing just how far gone he was. She waited for him to tense up again or deviate from what she wanted. He surprised her instead by sitting upright and looking right at her. He wasn't awake, but his eyes were open.

"Can we have fun now?"

He wrapped his arms around her, and she froze. If she told him the wrong thing, he could easily overpower her and have not such a fun afternoon ahead of her. They weren't that close yet, and she wasn't planning on getting that close.

"No, not that sort of fun,"she said, trying to slip out of his hold. He squeezed harder. She gasped and stayed put. Okay, in retrospect, that was a stupid idea.

"Why not?"

" You're not awake."

He rested his chin on her head and stared straight ahead. He was clearly acting on impulse. She wasn't quite sure why the deeper he went the more unpredictable he became, even Russia hadn't reacted negatively until he woke up. She'd botched that mission badly. (China wouldn't be hiring her again anytime soon.)

"So, when I wake up, can we have some fun?"

She gulped and tried not to freak out. He might accidentally crack her ribs if she struggled. Amy should really stop suggesting things that ramped up his emotional response to alarming levels.

"If you want,"Amy said, attempting to remain nonchalant. She'd never sounded more like a scared little girl in her life. He pecked her on the cheek.

"Thank you Amy."

He released her, and Amy scrambled off him. She was having second thoughts about taking him to France. She was tapping into something inside him she didn't want to be associated with. Taking a few deep breaths, she decided to double check if she was in control or not.

"Okay, let's see if you can follow my instructions. Stand up."

He did. There was no question that he did. His face was still an expressionless mask so he hadn't been playing a prank on her before. If so, he was obviously repressing a lot of emotions and that made him a very volatile subject. She'd have to fix that.

"Good America."

She kissed him briefly on the lips. Alfred wanted to take it further, but she was prepared this time.

"Now, stretch."

She wasn't very specific so he performed a series of stretches, from the standard shoulder stretch to the hamstring stretch. When he was done, he looked up at her from the floor. This time he was expecting a reward. Amy obliged and bent over to kiss him on the lips. He didn't try taking it farther this time.

"Good America."

Mindless, that was the best way to describe the look in his eyes at the moment. She had to wonder how aware he was.

"What's your name?"

"Good America."

She had to keep from laughing. She meant to praise him for being good, but apparently, he was registering that as his full name.

"Cute."

"I'm cute."

Amy smiled. She didn't want him to get too conceited now.

"Whoops, I didn't actually mean-"

"I'm a whoopsie."

She did not want to explain to Canada why his brother was suddenly into dudes.

"No, you are definitely not a whoopsie."

"I'm not a whoopsie."

That was close. She should try something new. There had to be something they could do, alone in the house, just the two of them. One thing came to mind but it was rather immoral. It would be a good time to test what he would and wouldn't do at this point.

"Lay down on the couch."

"Yes Amy."

She sat on top of him and pressed her hands on his chest. She had all his attention now.

"Take off your shirt."

"I thought you said we were going to have fun when I wake up."

Meh logic, it was her worst enemy in these situations. She could convince him to take it off anyway, but it really killed the mood.

"We will after you take your shirt off."

"You'll have to get off me."

Obviously, she didn't think this through. Still, she hadn't really planned to go through with it. She just needed him in an incriminating position. Actually, this would do nicely.

"Never mind then, I'm pretty comfortable right now. In fact, I think this is the perfect position to be in when you wake up. Bombs Bursting in air."

Now to completely distract him and make him disregard the couple of hours she stole from his life. He probably would have wasted it watching tv anyway.

"So, what did you want to ask me?"

"I uh . . . forgot."

America was heavily aware they were nowhere near the kitchen eating pie, or at least, Amy assumed that's what his panicked expression meant. He could also be wondering if he drank alcohol at some point.

"That's okay. You were going to get the rope and show me some rope tricks."

America whole heartedly preferred that explanation to the one currently running through his mind, or at least, he calmed down after she said it. The poor guy didn't look like he wanted to even breathe. The tension in his muscles had returned with a vengeance, and he was trying very hard not to react to her body on top of his.

"That sounds right. You . .. um, have to get off me though."

Amy nodded. She didn't budge. He made a noise that sounded like a strangled cat.

"Kiss me first."

There wasn't a trace of confusion or hesitation. The desire to kiss her was already present. Amy wasn't prepared when he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hard. Wide eyed, she just let him in. The kiss only lasted a few seconds. Her shocked expression must have told him she didn't really want to continue.

"Wow, I'm not really sure what came over me, Mam. I'm sorry."

Still extremely flustered, she took a deep breath before asking him to do the next thing.

"Take off your shirt."

Her negative reaction to the kiss interfered with the automatic response she was trying to establish. Alfred wasn't so quick to obey her this time.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Amy decided he had a point. If she didn't want to do this, he wouldn't once he read her body language. Still, she couldn't hide her frustration. She didn't have any idea if the suggestion actually worked or if what happened was just a by product of a very lonely country.

" I mean it's not that I don't like you I just don't think it'd work out. And, my shirt is off. Lady, are you a witch?" he asked, more astonished than anything.

That was all the proof Amy needed. It was time to fly to Paris or . . . wherever they were having the wedding. She'd make some calls. Of course, she was going to have some fun first (the less awkward kind.)

"Don't think about that. Go get some ropes and show me some tricks, like you promised."

He blinked, and with that singular blink all his doubts about what she did vanished.

"Okay."

He came back with the ropes. She patted his chest and grinned.

"Tie yourself up."

At first, he laughed, thinking it was a joke. Then, he sat down and started tying his feet. His hands shook the entire time and he was genuinely freaked out that he couldn't stop himself. He looked up at her helplessly.

"How are you doing this to me?"

She sat down next to him and steadied his hands. He shoot her a dirty look.

"You want to listen to me, Alfred. Don't question what I tell you."

The nasty look left his face, and he relaxed, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Yes Amy."

She stroked his hair. Alfred wasn't in a trance, but he didn't seem to care what she did to him anymore.

"Are the ropes nice and tight?"

"Yeah but I'm having trouble tying my hands."

He couldn't knot it properly. She took the ropes from him.

"I'll do that for you."

"Thanks."

It didn't take her long to tie his hands. He held still the entire time. She probably didn't need the ropes anymore, but she couldn't risk him suddenly flipping out on her.

"Now, tell me your bank account number, so, I can get us two tickets to France."

His eyes brightened, remembering the implanted thought.

"That's funny. I've been wanting to go to France with you."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked him on the cheek.

"I thought you would."


	4. To Every Form of Escape

To Every Form of Escape

To be honest, Alfred had no idea what was going on. He had met this girl yesterday at a café, and now, he was tied up. That wasn't really what was troubling him though. It was the fact Alfred had tied himself up willingly, and that he was all smiles, sitting there, waiting for her to pay attention to him. Why was she ignoring him now anyway? He did what she wanted. Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus. This wasn't the first time he'd been tied up. All he needed to do was get his hands loose and call someone. Sure, whoever he called would have ample blackmail material available, but his other option was staying with this freaky chick.

The girl was searching for something, in a not so discreet manner. America didn't know what was so important that she'd ignore a half naked country to find it, but he was glad she was sufficiently distracted. Damn, she was actually pretty good at making knots. He was having trouble prying the rope from his wrists. He stopped when the girl came back, trying to fake the dreamy eyed look he had before. Who knew how long it would take him to snap out of his stupor next time.

"Where did you put my passport?"

Oh that, he'd hidden it behind a loose brick, during one of his less stable moments. America didn't feel so horrible about taking it anymore. This new piece of leverage could save him a lot of trouble if he played his cards right. First, he had to figure out what he was dealing with.

"I stuck it behind a loose brick near the fireplace."

What the hell? He couldn't have caved so soon. She'd only asked him a question, and he was spilling his guts like she'd been torturing him for hours. This wasn't natural. Sigh. This was definitely an England thing. If only he could get to a phone . . .

Amy seemed as surprised as he was, before muttering, oh right, I forgot I told you that. She patted his head and went to search the fireplace. And that was another confusing issue right now, he didn't exactly distrust her. She reminded him of Amelia Earhart. Wait. He'd said that before. Multiple times actually . . . she was brainwashing him. Common sense be damned, he was getting out of this mess. He could get out of the ropes very quickly. It would just hurt a lot afterwards. Alfred started bucking like a bronco. This was a mistake. She noticed he was freaking out and rushed to his side.

"Calm down Alfred, nothing's wrong. Do you want to get out of the ropes?"

Psht, nothing's wrong. Tying someone up normally is a pretty big clue something's wrong. She can't barge in here after he let her in and tell him what to do after he agreed to it in the first place. Okay, he was getting a little off track. America would never have agreed to any of that if she hadn't done something to him first. It was the principle of the thing.

Erm . . . he should probably accept her offer to untie him though. So, he swallowed his pride and nodded. She untied him, and he was about to turn the tables and tie her up when she interrupted him.

"We're going on vacation remember?"

Alfred stopped in his tracks. Vacation? He was drawing a blank. Did he agree to that? Well, she had managed to get him to tie himself up, convincing him to go to somewhere with her probably wouldn't have been too hard. He dropped the ropes, and the adrenaline rush started to fade. What were the odds that one girl was pulling the puppets strings? She'd asked him to do some rope tricks. He could have screwed up and tied himself unwittingly. He didn't really remember what happened a few minutes ago. That wasn't a good thing, but looking at her, she obviously wasn't a threat. A twenty year old girl couldn't have this much power over him. Maybe, he was overreacting a little.

"Yeah, I remember."

She helped him up. Strange, normally, he was the one helping people out. His brain wasn't working right, just looking at her was sending his heart into a frenzy. He wanted to drag her outside and get soaked. He wanted to make smores and see how many he could stuff in her mouth. He wanted to make love to her on the conference table while all the other countries watched. All in all, he was feeling reckless. Honestly, he couldn't bare to look at her anymore. Those were all stupid ideas. His incredibly inappropriate thoughts disappeared when he looked away. Roosevelt, this girl was making him crazy.

"I'm going to buy the tickets online. You sit down and watch tv for a while."

A very strange thing happened while he was looking at the floor, some things started to add up. America wasn't sure how, but this girl was manipulating him. (Texas might have said something about it. He didn't remember.) Sure, he could see himself letting her into the house. And, as embarrassing as it was, he could imagine tying himself up accidentally while he was showing off. But, under no circumstances would he have given her access to his bank account. So, he fought the urge to sit down and watch tv. They were going to talk about this like rational adults or he was going to tie her up and send her to Siberia. (He hadn't made up his mind yet.)

"We're not going to France."

For her part, she preferred to ignore him as if he were acting silly and simply talking down to him would fix the problem. Alfred knew better. There had been a trace of fear in her eyes when he spoke. Yet, she was determined to feign innocence.

"Excuse me, we both agreed-"

"No, I know I didn't. I know I didn't give you access to my bank information willingly either. "

Amy stopped pretending. Fear evident, she stepped away from him and started to speak.

"Rocket's Red-"

"You should probably pick a shorter trigger phrase."

He recognized the words as more than a verse from his anthem. She'd said them before although at the time he'd mistaken it for nonsense. Considering everything that had happened to him so far, he could chalk it up to hypnosis. And yet, he could admit that he clamped his hand over her mouth on instinct more than anything else.

"Now, I'm going to gag you. It's nothing personal. I honestly don't want this to go farther than it has. Do you understand?"

The girl didn't struggle. There was no way for her to overpower him physically and no way to make herself heard while his hand was covering her mouth. Amy nodded, accepting this as game over. He was relieved. As angry as he was, Alfred didn't want to hurt her, and the gag was more of a precaution than a direct punishment. (Oh Roosevelt, what the hell was he going to do with a girl that could hypnotize countries at will? Okay, he could think of a few things, but nothing he'd honestly go through with. America did have morals whether others appreciated them or not.)

"Good. I don't want to be the bad guy here. I'm going to talk to some of my associates and I'll see what I can do for you."

He didn't want to get the FBI involved. He took a look at her license and corrected himself. He didn't want to get the CIA involved. (And, he was _so_ going to have a talk with Matthew later to see if he was aware of this.) America decided to call England like he intended. He was ninety percent sure the girl wasn't normal, and Arthur was more experienced with the supernatural, (whether Alfred chose to acknowledge it or not.)

Speaking of the girl, she looked ready to shoot daggers at him with her eyes. The girl must have done a good job of rewiring his brain because he actually felt guilty about it. Alfred wasn't about to tell her that though. He gave her a look of contempt as he tied her up and gagged her.

"Don't give me that look. You knew what this was."

She switched tactics. The change was seamless. Straight from defiance to despair, and she did a good job of communicating her distress even through the gag. Amy was practically begging to be set free. Alfred knew it was an act, a very convincing act. The sight of her tears still made him weak in the knees. Gah, he was such a big softy sometimes.

"Don't cry."

She proceeded to cry harder, and he in turn was all too willing to hold her and look into her eyes to wipe the tears away. Of course, he knew that staring at them too long was a bad idea, but a few seconds of eye contact shouldn't hurt. Amy calmed down immediately. For all her mental manipulation, America didn't know what all she'd actually done to him, and he was starting to reconsider charging her with anything harsh. She wasn't that old. For all he knew, she just fell into a bad crowd.

"Look. If you promise not to do anything stupid, I'll untie you. The gag stays on though. You okay with that?"

The more paranoid part of his mind screamed that this was a horrible idea, but America was trying his best to be fair. As long as he kept the gag in and didn't look directly into her eyes, she wasn't a threat, and if it would keep her from becoming a blubbering mess, he would leave her untied, never mind, the fact she could be faking it. There wasn't much of a tactical advantage to her mobility.

As soon as she was untied, Amy latched onto him. America decided he had definitely made the right decision. What he needed to do know was undo the damage and find out if she was acting independently or not. He patted her back, and she let loose a shaky breath, sniffling.

"See, I'm not bad."

She nodded, burying her face in his shoulder. Aw, she's really freaked. America was honestly starting to feel sorry for her, and, he felt calm after holding her awhile. She wasn't so bad, maybe a little misguided.

Sigh, he'd have to hand her back to Canada once they dealt with the whole hypnosis issue though. He should try not to get attached. America figured she had calmed down enough to talk things out. Amy could probably be reasoned with.

"So, I really don't know what possessed you to do this, but hey, I was young once. We all do freaky things at some point. Do me a favor next time and hire a stripper or something if you want a cowboy."

She didn't actually say anything. America wasn't going to complain. She blushed and broke eye contact first. He'd have to remember that for next time. He blinked and shook his head. There wasn't going to be a next time.

He put her down and waited. She curled up on the couch and hugged a pillow. Satisfied, she wasn't going to run. He took out his cell phone and dialed England's number. Arthur didn't take long to pick up although he griped about Alfred calling so late. America really didn't care about the time difference right now.

"Yeah, England, you know that thing you said would happen to me when we did the fortune telling thing and I didn't believe you? I'm sorry. Tell me what I have to do to make this go away."

Arthur's tune changed really quickly. He sounded genuinely concerned, and Matthew's name came up. Arthur swore that he had nothing to do with it and that he had helped him snap out of the trance and remove any lingering subliminal commands left in his system. There had been quite a few. He glared at the girl. Alfred had a pretty good idea why.

That said, America had trust issues, and he wasn't going to let England get anywhere near him with a pocket watch or whatever.

"Yeah, I'm not letting you hypnotize me."

Arthur was not pleased with his lack of cooperation, and he reminded him that his other option was to leave himself open to the girl's influence. Alfred sighed. The old man had a point.

"Can't I just send her away to some remote- I guess that is immoral. Fine, but I want a witness, and not some push over like Canada, I mean Russia. I know you won't pull any crap with Russia there."

Not that he trusted Russia all that much, but he figured the two were unlikely to work together at any rate. So, they should thwart each others attempts and leave him covered.

Alfred cursed in his head. He'd neglected to keep an eye on the girl. And, the gag wasn't hard to take out if both her hands were free. Crap, he'd fallen for the damsel in distress act. Where was she? She couldn't have gone far.

"Rocket's Red Glare."

America tried to struggle now that he was aware of what was going on. He really did. His eyes clamped shut almost immediately. There was a sudden liquid warmth, and it proved to be an effective sedative. There was a giant disconnect between his brain and body. He tried scream and thrash, but he was drowning, and his movements slowed. He relaxed and was no more resistant than a floating pool toy. He let the waves carry him and he started to lose his conscious thoughts. His subconscious was aptly equipped to reassure him. Amy has pretty eyes. Amy reminded him of Amelia Earhart. He trusted her. He was lonely. He liked being hypnotized. He wanted to feel this away all the time.

"Tell him you were joking and hang up the phone."

His hand shook for a second, but then, he opened his eyes and smiled. Alfred knew just how to play the old man. Arthur still considered him an immature brat in most respects.

"On second thought, I don't need you to come over. I was gonna prank you, but even I think this one is kinda of convoluted, I mean a person who could hypnotize a country. Can you imagine?" He smiled at Amy. She looked nervous. He didn't see why. Alfred wouldn't turn her in. He was only kidding around.

"Yeah, yeah, you're an arse too. Sorry for prank calling you, I'm kinda of bored."

He played his part well. Arthur didn't ask any follow up questions. The last thing he heard Arthur mutter was stupid American before hanging up. Snapping the phone shut, he turned to her, ready to do whatever she wished so long as she kept him happy.

"Obviously, it was too soon to try anything that direct. I rushed. I'm sorry about that," she said, chucking the impromptu gag in the trash.

"That's okay," he said, concerned that she didn't look as happy as he felt. She still seemed shaken by the whole thing. Alfred frowned. He should try to make it up to her somehow.

Lifting her up in the air, Alfred gave her his best happy face.

"Smile."

If anything she was gloomier than before, she let him hold her, staying limp, mind on other things. This dampened Alfred's mood some. Why wasn't she happy? He put her down.

" I can't take you to France if you're going to pull this crap," she said tiredly. Alfred didn't understand. Was she upset about lifting her up? He grabbed hold of her hand before she could return to the kitchen where the laptop waited.

"But I want to go," he said. She promised. They were going to go together, and no one said no to America. She removed his hand and hugged herself, and if this were a cartoon, Alfred was sure a dark cloud would be following her.

"No you don't. You just think you do."

He tilted his head in confusion. If he wanted to go, he wanted to go. Thinking and desire were linked. There wasn't a difference. This time he confiscated her entire arm and followed her.

"Please."

Amy couldn't really shake him off so she eventually accepted his presence and sat down. Alfred sat next to her, watching her eagerly as she ordered the tickets. He frowned when she only ordered one.

"I'll just go by myself. We'll pick up where we left off later, once your paranoia dies down,"she said, patting his cheek. America squeezed her arm.

"Don't leave me."

Amy winced but broke into laughter shortly after.

"Wow, you have some pretty deep seated abandonment issues, don't you?"she asked, ruffling his hair. Alfred perked up. Normally, when she asked a question she wanted him to do something. He couldn't deduce what she wanted so he went with his usual persuasive argument. There was no clear definition for "good" after all.

"I'll be good."

She didn't have the reaction he was hoping for. Amy scoffed, looking at him wearily.

"Yeah, that's why you almost turned me in."

America scrunched his face up in concentration. She was still worried about that. He returned to his usual (non creepy) cheery smile.

"I won't."

Amy's resentment was still very much there because of his earlier stunt. Alfred groaned. It wasn't his fault his consciousness had control issues. Amy hadn't done anything too bad to him, and he liked her company. She was very nice when she asked him to do things.

"You don't listen."

"I'll listen."

Alfred didn't even want to argue that he'd done almost everything she wanted. He really wanted to go, and he was willing to suck up in a way his consciousness never would, (except for very rare occasions.)

The girl was still skeptical of him, but his puppy dog face was wearing her down. It helped she hadn't been exposed to the look before hand. She grabbed him by the chin and made him look into her eyes. He was starting to blank out. America blinked repeatedly, trying to stay awake.

"You'll be good?"

"Yes."

He'd said that already. The dull empty feeling was taking over. Alfred relaxed further. He wouldn't mind slipping away for a while. The darkness could be anything and everything. He was addicted, even if his consciousness wasn't aware of it yet.

"Stop suspecting me?"

"Yes."

Amy wouldn't let anything happen to him. She seemed to want company as badly as he did. Still, Alfred would have preferred she just ask him directly. Did she really think he was that unreasonable? Okay, so, maybe, he did have trouble getting close to people but . . .

"Won't question me when I make you do things?"

It took him a second to figure out how to answer correctly, and she was unjustifiably paranoid about it. He was trying his best to listen.

"Yes."

"Because that's normal to you now," she said, letting go of his chin. He reclined back in his seat and thought about the suggestion. He did want her to stay, and it seemed that hypnosis and Amy were a packaged deal. He did like getting hypnotized. (He wasn't sure how true that was, but he was willing to accept the hypnosis if it meant Amy would stay.)

"Okay."

He should probably get used to these sessions. It has been a while since he could struggle, and it felt so good when he did let go like his own personal oubliette stuffed with every feeling and scenario he could possibly want.

"So when I tie you up, what do you do?"

The question made him uncomfortable, but he knew what she wanted to hear well enough. If he didn't struggle, she wouldn't get upset with him if he remembered his past hostage situations correctly.

"Stay put and wait for you to untie me."

She smiled and patted his head.

"Good America."

He smiled too. She was always happier when he listened.

"What about when I tell you to shut up?"

"I stay quiet until you say it's okay to speak."

He remembered that one from staying at Arthur's. The situation did happened to be more complicated than this though, etiquette and all that. Kids should be seen and not heard etc. Underneath the happiness inducing pleasure, he had a bad feeling. This sort of situation was hard to walk away from.

'If you're not sure what's going on, what do you do?"

She had on a serious face, and it remind him of Arthur's. That worried him deep down, but he couldn't worry. All he could do was let the emotions swallow him and accept what he was told. He was excited he knew the answer.

"I wait for your directions or try to find you if you're not there."

She hugged him, suspicions eased for now.

"Okay, you can come."

"Thank you Amy."

He hugged back, happy Amy liked him again. (It was hard to tell if he was or not with all the chemicals being released into his brain. )

" Now, when you wake up, you'll feel incredibly lazy and watch tv all day. Just before you go to bed, it will occur to you to put on a scary movie. Then, we'll really have some fun. Bomb's bursting in air. "

"I'm going to order tickets. You can do whatever."

America nodded, feeling lethargic. He should try to get more sleep. It was really killing his productivity. He should have thrown the whole neighborhood a barbecue by now. In fact, he should have cleaned up and visited the local shops by now too.

"I think I'll watch some tv."

Never had he seen a girl so happy to hear that a guy wanted to watch television. He was rewarded with a brief peck on the lips. Alfred barely registered it, and he had a feeling it had happened before. Then again, there was a lot of things slipping his mind lately like the whole France thing.

"Why are we going to France again?"

He didn't normally go to countries all willy nilly.

" Francis is getting married. He invited you. You're bringing me as your date," she said as if he should know already. Her hands were on his hips as she waited for his rebuttal. Alfred wasn't anymore assured.

"Uh, I am?" he asked innocently. She turned her nose up at him. Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say.

"Hey, I'm going with or without you, so you better decide quickly if you'll be joining me."

America captured her hand before she could run away. He wanted a chance to defend himself. This was an out of the blue trip he didn't remember. Could he really be blamed for not being so into it? What were the odds France would actually go through with it anyway? (Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if countries could even do that.)

"I'm going. I've just been forgetting a lot of stuff lately. Maybe, I should talk to someone about it."

America wouldn't mind getting Matthew's opinion on it. He had mentioned forgetting several hours of his day. Sure, Countries tended to forget the little things but not immediately. At some point, Canada had stopped forgetting, and it would be worth finding out exactly what he did to fix the problem

"Nah, you're tired. You need to go to sleep. You'll feel better after you sleep."

America let it go. It had only been a day and half. This probably wasn't a big deal. Amy was right. He should get some sleep. He yawned and lay down on the couch.

"Yes Amy."

Hmm . . . he'd been saying that a lot lately.


	5. But I Fear It's Far Too Late

But I Fear It's Far Too Late

America had always heard television would rot his brain, but this was the first time he thought that there could be some truth to that. Before, he could pick and choose what he wanted to see and turn the tv off when he was done. Today, he didn't have the strength to reach the remote. So, he had been watching kittens for the last few hours. Literally, they just bombarded him with images of kittens tangling themselves in yarn and play fighting, basically using the strategy, look at me I'm adorable don't change the channel. And, if he had been in any mood to get up, he would have changed the channel in a heartbeat. It's not like he was a kitten hater, but after a while, the novelty of watching kittens run around wore off.

Alfred was so mind numbingly bored. Why did Amy have to change the channel on him? He liked watching robot wars. Sadly, he wasn't even mad. He wished she'd come back already. She was packing for them. (Some part of him said he should be packing his own bag but he ignored it.) Of course, all he had to do was get up and see what she was up to, but America couldn't really check. His eyes were glued to the screen. Yawning, he turned around, deciding another nap was in order. There was something America always found shameful about napping in the middle of the day, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was on vacation. The world didn't need him right this second. Besides, it was this or even more kittens.

Alfred fell asleep easily. Lately, he didn't have any trouble at all slipping into the darkness. He didn't dream. There was only the dark. After what seemed like only minutes, Amy tapped his shoulder. He opened his eyes groggily. The sun had set already, and the sudden night time left him a little disoriented.

"What time is it?"

"It's midnight."

America blinked. Had he really slept for that long? She was about lay down next to him, but he sat upright and made more room for her. Surprisingly, she sat on the opposite end of the couch as far from him as possible. That bothered him more than it should. He'd only known her for two days after all. Still, it would have been nice if she sat a little closer. For someone who always smiled at him and talked in sweet tones, she was passive, maybe even half asleep already. He had a wicked thought. Since he couldn't possibly sleep tonight after sleeping all day, maybe, they could have a scary movie marathon. Odds were, someone would be more freaked out than he was for a change, or she could be like every other girl he talked to on a regular basis and watch someone get torn apart without batting an eye.

"Say, would you watch a scary movie with me?"

Amy must have liked the idea. It seemed to wake her up almost immediately. Practically, bouncing in the seat, she grabbed hold of his arm.

"I'd love to."

America grinned. Everything was already going to plan. He reluctantly left the couch and perused his sizeable collection of dvds. What could he pick out that wouldn't freak him out too badly? He didn't want to look like a scaredy cat in front of her. He was about reach for Nightmare on Elm Street but changed his mind at the last second. If he didn't pick something that scared him, what were the odds it would scare her? So, he grabbed the one beside it and popped the disk into the blue ray player.

As much as he would like to treat this as a regular movie night, America had to take some precautions. He started gathering every pillow he could find and put them between himself and Amy. Sure, this was counter intuitive to what he actually wanted, but if he really flipped out, he didn't want to hurt her. She was human and a lot easier to break than Japan who was small but sturdy. He highly doubted a regular person could have handled being shaken so much.

"What are you doing?"

There were two explanations in his head. He wasn't sure which one to use. Did she know he was a country? He should know, but he was drawing a blank. He did have a gut feeling that yes, she knew, and he should come out and say what he meant. America decided it was better to be discreet.

"Umh . . . I sometimes need to hold onto something, and-"

Amy smiled brightly and help up her arms.

"You can hold me."

He hid his face in the pillow he was holding to hide his blush. That wasn't a very good idea. The problem was that he found the gesture rather cute, and he really did want to sit next to her. He shook his head, shoving a pillow into her arms.

"Trust me, the pillows are necessary."

Amy pushed the pillow out of her face and scowled.

"How necessary?"

"That depends. How good is your health insurance?"

"I don't have any."

"We need more pillows."

Alfred ran upstairs so he could grab some more pillows from the closet.

"You're overreacting," Amy shouted.

He poked his head out from behind the wall.

"No, I'm not."

She rolled her eyes but didn't argue with him anymore. He soon returned with another armful of pillows. The pillows were strategically stacked so they formed a wall between them. Alfred set one aside for him to hold later when they started the movie. Amy was not happy and remarked dryly.

"Jeesh, is building a fence your answer to everything, America?"

America froze, a thick un-beckoned tension strangling him. The girl knew who he was. This should worry him. Amy didn't seem to understand why her snippy remark bothered him so much. She hit him with a spare pillow and gave him an incredulous look.

"I was just kidding around. There's no need to be serious all the time, lighten up Al."

Alfred didn't move. He didn't want to let this go. There had been other things that troubled him before even if he couldn't remember. And yet, like a ballerina in a jewelry box he continued to dance for the little girl in front of him. America nodded, getting up to get some popcorn. As he stood, the pressure seemed to melt away and he became giddy. The phrase lighten up Al echoed in his head. He practically skipped into the kitchen and wrestled the popcorn packet out of the box all the while whistling_ Pocket Full of Sunshine_. He came back with a popcorn bag and two pairs of chopsticks. Amy raised an eyebrow.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Alfred shook his head, expertly shoving a piece of popcorn into her mouth with the chopsticks when she left herself open. He offered her the other set afterwards. She accepted the chopsticks, trying and failing to successfully pick up a piece of popcorn on her own several times. Alfred became impatient and popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth. She started giggling uncontrollably when he continued to make a game of it. She would fight him off with her own chopsticks. America took it as a challenge and made sure to disarm her if given the opportunity.

"What has gotten into you? I think I like it."

She said, hitting his arm when another piece of popcorn made its way into her mouth. He grinned, tapping his chopsticks together.

"Don't know. I'm just really happy I guess."

At this point, the pillow wall was no longer being treated as a barrier between them. Alfred was laying on top of them with one arm poised to strike if she so much as opened her mouth. The pillows were making the game difficult. She had learned to duck behind them when he attacked. In fact, he was so invested in the spur of the moment game that he was genuinely confused when she confiscated his chopsticks and pressed play.

"But-" She shushed him.

"We can play later." She taunted him with a chopsticks a while longer before turning around to watch the movie. A little dejected, he decided to do the same. America wished he hadn't. He'd forgotten how creepy this movie was. Sure the beginning was a little slow, but he had already memorized the whole thing from repeated viewings. He was already getting a little agitated. The car was still traveling down the long winding path, and the pillow was losing feathers at an alarming rate. The creepy music didn't help. He jumped when she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Is the pillow not very good company Alfred? You can always forget the stupid pillow wall idea and sit next to me." Her tone was sickeningly sweet like a mother's, and she had the gall to pat his head and pinch his cheek.

America narrowed his eyes. She was mocking him. He hugged the pillow tighter.

"I'm fine."

She shrugged.

"Okay, it's just nothing has actually happened yet."

"Shut up."

She shot him a look.

"I'll take a the disk out."

"I'll kick you out of the house. You don't have a key yet."

Amy glared at him and turned up the volume. He inadvertently cowered.

"I find it funny that you're scared of a movie where the main character goes crazy from isolation," she said conversationally. America paused the video. Ready to whine, it was no fun if she started to psychoanalyze him.

"Amy, I'm trying to watch the movie. Shut up."

She chucked a pillow at him and scoffed.

"Whatever."

He took the opportunity to replaced his haggard pillow with a fresh one. It was going to be a long hundred and forty six minutes.

"Liar."

"Shh, Alfred, let Mr. Exposition talk"

"But, I know what's going to happen."

There was a pause. She sighed.

"Are you sure you want to keep watching?"

Alfred nodded furiously. He was still on his second pillow. Besides, he'd watched this movie a hundred times. It couldn't be as scary as he remembered it. Amy smiled as if she expected as much.

"Okay, but you have to stop shouting at the characters."

"Psht, the no talking rule only applies to you."

She threw another pillow at him. Alfred caught it and added the pillow to his pillow reserve. Annoyed that he didn't really mind the pillows, Amy threw some more at him. Again, he set them aside for later use. Finally, she punched the remainder of the pillow wall apart and that was the end of that. Eh . . . maybe, he could yell a little less.

The slow build up was always the worst, especially all the subtle nuances that would have had him running for the hills a long time ago. Then, the twins showed, moving in perfect synch. Oh Roosevelt, why was there always a creepy little girl in these things? He ripped the pillow he was holding in half. Feathers flew everywhere. Amy shook the feathers out of hair and threw one of the remaining pillows at him. He held onto it for dear life.

"Wow, it's really easy to scare you isn't it?"

Alfred didn't answer, eyes fixed on the screen. They were in the storage room now, and one of his favorite scenes was coming up. She poked him. He flinched, but didn't make a peep.

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Sit closer."

Alfred did, most of the pillows were on the floor already anyway. ( Besides, this was what he wanted in the first place. ) The next part wasn't so bad, and Alfred thought he could make it through the film without murdering anymore pillows. Amy hadn't really reacted to any of the movie so far. Her mind seemed to be on something else. Of course, the music steadily increased in intensity, and she leaned forward.

"What's going to happen to the little boy?"

Alfred probably should have reassured her, but he had his own issues to deal with.

"Don't open the door, stupid kid."

The damn little girls showed up again. The pillow lost some of its fluff as he squeezed it unapologetically. If she did freak out, he probably missed the signal to comfort her. He took a second to look her over. She stiffened, obviously bothered but not enough to thrash about and scream like Alfred usually did. He executed a revenge poke. She freaked out and fell off the sofa. (It was probably a good thing that he left all those pillows on the floor.) Amy sat back down and refused to look at him. Alfred rolled his eyes,(pfft, look who needed to lighten up now.)

"So, wait. The little girls were dead all along?"

Alfred nodded, absently shivering. As quickly as they appeared, the little girls were gone. This movie knew how to mess with his head. She'd regained her composure and only appeared mildly curious at best. Her left pinky would still absently twitch after an unsettling moment. Alfred was too caught up in the story line to mess with her properly.

"You've never seen this movie before have you?" he said finally.

Amy jumped a little and answered hesitantly.

"No, we weren't really allowed to . . . no."

He frowned. She definitely wasn't telling him everything.

"I see."

This wasn't the right time. He could ask her follow up questions when she was in a better state of mind.

"I'm glad you're watching it with me then."

The man's sanity was slowly slipping, bit by bit. And then, he started seeing people that weren't there. It hit a little close to home, and America added another body of feathers to the graveyard at his feet. He reached for another one, but he'd already gone through his stack. Shoot, they weren't even half way through the movie yet. Amy smirked.

"Is something wrong Alfred?"

Yes, but he wasn't about to admit it. Arms still crossed, he shook his head and huffed.

"I'm fine. Or do you not want me to be fine, Amy?"

Still smiling, she patted his back and whispered, "I'll be right here if you need me."

America would have said something sarcastic if he hadn't noticed what part of the movie they were on. He latched onto her and started shaking her mercilessly.

"Dead old lady! Dead old lady!"

Amy cupped his face and had him stare into her eyes. He instinctively tried to lurch back.

"Alfred, don't move. Oh and I want you to stay scared."

Alfred stopped, still clinging to her torso and breathing hard. The eyes didn't have any affect on him right now, and he wanted nothing more than to get away. The girl had him look up.

"Pay attention, Al. In a few seconds, I'm going to put you in a trance okay? But, you have to stay scared when I put you under. It's important."

He shook his head. That didn't seem like a good thing. Amy tsked him and closed his eyes, what he saw made him tremble. Alfred was so pumped full of adrenaline that what he saw seemed real. She wouldn't let him open his eyes either. After a few minutes, she asked him again, and he was all too willing to cooperate.

"When I put you under, you'll stay scared."

"Yes Amy."

"Good America, rocket's red glare."

His eyes were still shut, and there wasn't an immediate difference between this and what happened when he normally closed his eyes. The dark abyss was colder, and instead of diving further into its dark entrenches, he stayed put and shivered.

"Al, can you hear me?"

"Yes Amy, it's cold. Can you make it warm?"

She didn't answer. He felt a tingly sensation along his back that made him stiffen. This wasn't as pleasant as he remembered.

"Not now, I need to give you your instructions."

"I'll listen if you make it warm."

Could he actually get brain freeze this way? His heart was thumping faster than usual and parts of him were starting to go numb. Texas's glasses slipped from his face, and he wondered if he was still wearing them outside the darkness.

"Sure, Alfred, I'll make sure you're nice and warm after we're done. Are you still afraid?"

Tilting his head, he wasn't sure if he should answer or not. His initial fear had ebbed after the cold started taking over.

"Not really,"" he admitted.

"That's okay. I want you to picture everything you find scary about that movie and replay the scenes in your head until you get scared."

Before long, he was running around in circles, begging her to take the images out of his head. She shushed him and told him to pay attention. He sat down and waited, twitching every once in a while. His eyes were still wide with fear, and he would turn around every few seconds to ease his paranoia.

"When I say home of the brave, you will feel exactly as you do now. Understand?"

Alfred hesitated. This didn't feel good. He didn't want to feel this way all the time.

"Do you want the warmth to come back?"

Rubbing his hands together, he sighed. Alfred did miss the warmth.

"Yes, please. I'll be good."

"Excellent, now, when I say land of the free, you will snap out of your fearful state. Does that sound fair?"

Alfred should say something clever to show how much he hated the idea. He put up with the random bouts of hypnosis to feel good, not so she could use him as a puppet. He settled for saying the one little word he knew she hated. (He didn't think she heard it often.)

"No."

She turned his words against him.

"So, you want to be afraid all the time?"

He was starting to feel helpless. How had he let it get this far? There had to be a way to wake up. And yet, his body was immobile, and his mind was starting to numb from the artificial cold. So, he very reluctantly decided to play along.

"No."

"So, when I say home of the brave, what do you do?"

He hated the irony of it too, but he kept himself from saying something that would earn him more time in the cold, the bitter memory inhibiting cold.

"I'll be scared like I am now."

"Good America, what about when I say land of the free?"

"I'll be back to normal, like nothing happened."

"Very good, I'll make it warm like I promised. Do you see the lights Al?"

Alfred only saw the foreboding darkness all around him. (How could he ever find this place relaxing? The nothingness could easily swallow him whole.) He squinted, and managed to spot some lights in the distance.

"They're far away."

"Follow the lights, land of the free."

His heart beat slowed and the paralyzing numbness went away. He ran toward the lights, pleasantly surprised when he started to warm up. The closer he was to the lights, the warmer he felt. The white and blue lights started to swirl together, and he stopped to stare at them as if he were sitting down on the couch watching the fire flicker and burn.

"Better?"

"Yes Amy."

He held his hands in front of the swirling mass, enjoying the heat coming from its depths. For a long while, he watched the colors circle each other in perfect harmony. Occasionally, he would look away, half remembering he should be somewhere else.

"Would you like to wake up now?"

The memory came back. Right, they were watching a scary movie. Alfred should watch it with her. She's never seen it before. He didn't want her to be scared alone.

"Yes, please."

"Bombs bursting in air."

Alfred gasped, letting go of Amy to check his back. He swore something had stung him. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, he stretched and made himself comfortable. She had paused the video. Weird. Had he fallen asleep or something? Amy was quick to un-pause the movie so he dismissed it readily.

The scary part had passed. So, he fidgeted anxiously waiting for his next fright. Amy reached for his hand. He slapped it away without thinking. America smiled apologetically as she glared at him. Alfred really should stop psyching himself out. He held out his hand, and she promptly pushed him away, making sure to punch his arm extra hard. Alfred humored her and pretended to rub his shoulder.

Gack, blood, blood everywhere, Amy said something, and he was holding her tighter than a child held their security blanket. She asked him to calm down, but there was no consoling him, even after the unsettling scene had passed. Amy continued to fuss over him while he slowly realized that he couldn't shake off the fear even if the character was only sitting in a bar drinking bourbon. She asked him to relax, and the best he could do was shut his eyes. It's not that he didn't want to cooperate, but the fear robbed him of his senses.

"Al, repeat after me, you're safe while you're with me."

Drat, America was shaking like a wet kitten. He should really snap out of it. He took a deep breath and did what he was told. It couldn't hurt to try it at least once.

"I'm safe while I'm with you."

Oddly enough, he did feel himself relax a little, even if the anxiety was still present.

"Good America, stop shaking."

Miraculously, he stopped shaking on command. The feat left him uneasy, but not as much as what she called him.

"How did y-"

"Watch the movie, Al. You're imagining things."

His concerns seemed silly to bring up now. She didn't know anything about him. He must have imagined her calling his name. If he said something now, he might expose himself. America should just watch the movie.

Being in a prolonged state of anxiety made it hard to think about anything else, these feelings would spike when the movie freaked him out. The guy was officially axe crazy, and it was only a matter of time before things escalated.

"Damn, I did not see that coming." she whistled. What did she expect? The woman had a bat, and the man was unarmed. She was weak willed, not stupid. All the same, America nodded, trying his best not to squeeze her intestines out. She stroked his hair and looked at him.

"You're awfully quiet. Are you okay?"

He nodded again. If he talked, Alfred might start screaming and thrashing more than he ever had. Amy frowned and whispered something in his ear. He relaxed immediately. Alfred didn't think to let Amy go and kept watching the movie.

"Huh, so, he's literally an axe murderer?"

"Y-Yeah."

But, really, the disturbing part was how quickly he became one. Alfred was really calm though, and he wasn't sure he liked jumping between two extremes. She told him something else. Fear gripped him, and he didn't notice when she started talking again.

"Huh? What?"

The blood caught him by surprise this time. He buried his face in her neck. Amy patted his back. The rest of the movie was a blur of snow as Amy whispered all sorts of things in his ear. Alfred didn't really register them, but since she put up with him, he agreed to almost everything. The credits rolled while a deceptively happy tune played.

"Alfred, are you listening?"

"Not really, I'm a little distracted right now."

Amy didn't seem to mind. She put a finger on her chin and scrutinized him.

"You'll stay by me when you're scared?"

America wasn't scared that often. He nodded.

"You'll be very careful when you hold me from now on."

Alfred noticed the bruises on her forearms and winced. He nodded again.

The last thing she said slipped his notice, but whatever she said made him feel a whole lot better about the situation. Like a sap, he didn't honestly want to get up and leave Amy's side. Alfred was content to lay next to her for however long she let him. It wasn't very long.

"Al, you need to take out the movie."

"Yes Amy."

He took out the disk, put it back in the box, making sure that he returned the movie to its proper place on the dvd shelf. That done, he wrapped his arms around Amy and relaxed. The girl yawned and tapped his shoulder. He snapped to attention.

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to sleep."

"Oh right, I said you could move in. Sorry for keeping you up, you can sleep in one of the rooms upstairs."

"Thanks, and Alfred?"

Without realizing it, he'd already followed her halfway up the stairs.

"Yeah?"

"You don't need to follow me all the time. In fact, you're very tired and want to sleep in your own room."

Alfred's eyes drooped, and he nodded. Amy didn't count on him carrying her bridal style up the stairs. She hit him repeatedly with her curled fists. America was pretty used to girls hitting him and ignored her.

"Put me down."

"What? I need someone next to me if I'm going to sleep tonight. Uh . . .You don't mind do you? I feel safe without you."

Using the puppy dog look doubled his sympathy points and she stopped hitting him. That didn't mean she was any happier with the arrangement. Amy crossed her arms and chose not to look him in the eye, most likely because her cheeks matched her hair.

"Fine but I want a pillow wall between us. I've seen what you do to pillows."

Alfred not so subtly eyed the pillow wreckage below them. Amy sighed in frustration.

"Never mind, just try not to crush my ribs tonight," Amy said.

That turned out not to be the main problem in the morning. When Alfred awoke, he was met with the sight of Yong Soo? In his house? He put on his glasses to make sure. Yup, that was definitely South Korea. His attention wasn't on Alfred at the moment. Young Soo pointed at Amy accusingly.

"Well, look who's been sleeping with the enemy? I knew I should have hired the blond one."

Alfred let his head hit the pillow. Looks like he accidentally let a spy into his house again, this probably wasn't going to be a very fun day. Good thing he waited on making those keys to his house.

"Both of you, get out now."

* * *

_**As you've probably noticed this has been getting a lot of updates, I like the story, but it does seem that there is little interest in it. So, most likely, the updates will slow dramatically, but please do enjoy the chapter the few of you who will read this far. **_


	6. To Escape My Fate

To Escape My Fate

All America could think was I'm an idiot. He'd been uneasy about her from the get go. Yong Soo showing up just confirmed his initial suspicions. Frankly, this development was enough to convince him to shut himself in for the rest of his vacation. He didn't care exactly why she was here or what Yong Soo hired her to do. So long as they left right this instant, he was willing to forget the whole thing.

Thanks to Yong Soo's surprise appearance, Amy was wide awake. She hadn't changed out of her clothes the night before which helped make the situation less awkward. Alfred, however, was in his boxers and desperately wished that the two would cooperate already. He didn't really want to drag them out of the house in his undergarments and explain to the Morretis why it hadn't worked out with this particular girl. (That wasn't even addressing why he was dragging an Asian guy out of his house. They would probably put two and two together in a mortifying way. )Arms crossed, she refused to get out of bed. In fact, she outright ignored him and addressed Yong Soo with thinly veiled hostility.

"Hello Yong Soo, lucky for you, I actually do want to speak with you, or I'd have you on your hands and knees acting like a kitty cat."

He scoffed, not at all convinced.

"You're bluffing. Besides, I did not pay you an obscene amount of money to have your way with him. You promised to work fast, and yet you're booking trips to Paris with him on my time."

Amy finally stood, handing him what seemed to be an uncashed check.

"About that, I'm not working for you anymore. I decided to keep him."

Both America and South Korea gaped. Alfred couldn't have heard that correctly. She did not just blatantly declare she owned him. Something was nagging at him. This all sounded very familiar. He didn't have time to think it over long. Yong Soo was furious. He was as red as any of Spain's tomatoes. Fists clenched and shaking with barely restrained rage, he glared at her as if he wanted to inject venom into her soul. With puffs of smoke coming out of his head, he shouted exactly how he felt about her sudden betrayal.

"You can't do that. We had a deal."

Amy examined her nails, pretending to have lost interest in the other country or at least that is what America assumed. She was too tense to pull of the nonchalant look effectively.

"And, now, we don't. So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make breakfast. You're not invited."

South Korea scowled and grabbed her arm before she could leave the room. America allowed it. He had some questions of his own, and this seemed like the best way to get them. (He could always break it up if Yong Soo went too far.)

"Hold on, what am I supposed to get China for his birthday now?" he whined.

America blanched, unsure how to react. He didn't think Yao had anything to do with this, but he really had to wonder what led Young Soo to believe that Yao would honestly want any information Amy might have managed to siphon from him eventually. (He wasn't told much these days to block these sort of attempts.)

"Yeah, I wasn't going to say anything since you were paying me a ton, but I'm pretty sure kidnapping America and leaving him on China's doorstep would just make Yao have a heart attack."

That bit of information completely changed his attitude toward the whole situation. This was the stupidest idea he'd ever heard. (And, he had come up with some pretty insane ideas to break morale and get out of world meetings early.) So, not only did he send a girl to manipulate him, Yong Soo honestly thought she could kidnap him. Please, she wouldn't even be able to get him on a plane, like she would have . . . tomorrow to some place in France. Okay, America was officially freaked out.

"This is the last time I'm saying this. Both of you get out before I drag you out of here in my underwear."

Yong Soo had been quietly fuming this whole time and only now, decided to speak up.

"Fine but this isn't over. I will have my vengeance." He took off in a hurry, presumably declaring vengeance on Amy and not himself. (He was a gift for China, apparently . . . for some reason. South Korea was weird.)

Shaking her head, she laughed, not taking the threat very seriously. With South Korea gone, she relaxed and started to fix her hair up and ultimately ignored Alfred's warning a second time. He finally got out of bed. She took him a little more seriously now and turned around.

"Is something wrong?"

If he had been under enough pressure that morning, the question would have been enough to make him snap. As things stood, South Korea had left fairly quickly, and he'd slept rather well considering he'd watched a scary movie last night. So, he tried being patient.

"I've told you to leave twice already. Don't make me carry you out the door."

Seeming to understand this wasn't going away, she frowned, calculating something. He instinctively clamped her mouth shut. Her eyes widened in surprise. Alfred wasn't even sure why he did it, and he almost removed his hand when he couldn't think of a justifiable reason for doing so. She didn't sob uncontrollably this time. Alfred blinked. This time?

"Did you do something to my memory?"

She didn't try to shake her head yes or no. No, Amy pointed to her mouth. Looks like, she wouldn't say a word until she was free to speak. He reluctantly removed his hand from her mouth.

"Sit down, Al and don't get up until I tell you to."

Alfred did what she told him to without a second thought. She didn't sit next to him, and he quickly realized this was to keep him from pulling the same stunt twice. He started to panic when he couldn't make himself stand up. His legs might as well have been tied together and injected with sedatives. This girl wasn't a regular spy, and he was starting to think she could have left him on China's doorstep if she really wanted too.

"Calm down, you promised to be good, remember?"

He stopped trying to lift himself off the bed and took some deep breaths. His cynical mind set started to unravel, no matter how hard he clung to it. Still, he fought the urge to give in by thinking rationally. She didn't answer his question. Amy must have tampered with his memories, if she could render him useless by uttering one little sentence. And yet, he had no proof. Wait. Yes, he did. Three minutes ago, Alfred had discovered Amy was working for Yong Soo. Alfred needed to stop dismissing suspicious activity like this. It wasn't like him to forgive so easily, not when it came to these kind of things.

"No, I-"

"So, you lied to me?"

Alfred shook his head in spite of himself. He didn't understand what was going on anymore. She'd rewired him when he wasn't looking. He was the robot, and she had the remote control. The severity of her expression lessened when he responded correctly. He was glad, even if he didn't want to be glad.

"So, you won't suspect me anymore? You promised."

Alfred struggled to not comply. He'd grabbed a fistful of his jean's denim fabric and tried his best not to look at her. There were many many reasons to suspect her. He couldn't dismiss it this time. He couldn't.

"You were working for Yong Soo. Give me one reason, I should trust you,' he said shakily.

Amy smirked and finally worked up the nerve to approach him again. When he didn't make a move to grab her, she came close enough to pat his cheek and whisper in his ear.

"Because you want to."

Damn it, he relaxed, completely. She had a point. He wanted to trust her, and he . . . he did promise. Looking up at her, he nodded. Amy sat next to him inspecting him from head to toe. She had him lay down on the bed. He crashed like an anchor, and the bed creaked horribly, barely withstanding the blow.

"Good America, now relax, forget what happened with South Korea, he's crazy. You know that I wouldn't do something like that to you. I'm your friend."

The more he thought about it, the more idiotic South Korea's plan seemed. Amy wasn't anything more than a girl he bullied into helping him out. She obviously wasn't capable of overpowering him. (He'd bruised her arms the night before without meaning to.) America shouldn't be so quick to accuse her of trying to kidnap him of all things. After all, he was the one who had invited her to stay at his house and insisted she sleep in the same bed with him so he wouldn't freak out. Amy wouldn't betray him. He should just relax.

"Besides, you're America. You're practically the definition of independence. No one can force you to do anything you don't want to do."

That's right. He was being awfully paranoid. There was a logical explanation to everything if he pieced his memories together although admittedly it was patchy and full of holes. America was on vacation. He'd met a pretty girl in a café and asked her to come to his place. When she mentioned she didn't have a place to live right now, he'd offered to let her stay and make a key for her. They'd hit it off so well that when France asked him to come to his wedding, he asked her to be his date. Then, South Korea had to ruin everything and threaten her when she decided not to go through with his stupid plan.

"I guess I did overreact. I'm sorry I lumped you together with South Korea."

"The important thing is that next time someone comes after me you help me instead of asking a bunch of questions you already know the answers to."

Yes, of course, he would. If he watched from the sidelines, Amy could get hurt before he had a chance to intervene. And yet, there was a question that definitely needed answering.

"Why would he ask for your help?"

Amy didn't seem to know how to answer that, but he didn't outright accuse her of lying like he might have otherwise. Alfred had promised to give her the benefit of the doubt, and he would. Finally, her eyes rested on the opposite wall where he had left the bomber jacket he had being meaning to give her since the day before. The time had sort of slipped away from him though. So, it sat there innocently, waiting to be worn.

"Simple, he thought you'd let me in the house because I kind of look like Amelia Earthart. Silly, huh?"

Not really, it had worked, completely and utterly. And because this stunt worked so well, America was feeling something akin to shame. On a whim, he'd let someone into his house that could have caused him major headaches down the road. Or not . . . that still didn't explain what on earth Yong Soo thought she could do once America let her in the house.

"What where you supposed to do once you were inside?"

There was no hesitation this time. She laughed and hit his shoulder lightly.

"There wasn't a plan. I just went along with the whole idea, and hoped, you'd be able to get me out of it."

America nodded. That sounded reasonable enough.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I wasn't sure how you'd react. For someone who claims to want world peace, you're not always that understanding when things don't go your way."

"Well, excuse me for having valid reasons to be paranoid, trust me when I say, you were in more danger of me not believing you if anything. "

There was a lull as America tried to figure out if he'd missed anything important. Since she hadn't actually been hired to spy on him, he could skip the interrogation. Besides, Yong Soo's unknown plans for Amy had to be dealt with. For a minute, Alfred toyed with the idea of sending her into a witness protection program. He dismissed it quickly. He was sure that whatever Yong Soo planned probably wasn't of a particularly sinister nature. Besides, Alfred didn't want her to go away, and he was just as capable of protecting her as any government agency.

"So, are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good. Do you still want to go to France with me? You're not contractually obligated to stick around if you don't want to."

"Of course, I want to go to France. Europe is awesome."

America rolled his eyes. She was one of those.

"I think it's over hyped personally. It should be fun though. I'm surprised he settled down. I don't think I've heard of a country actually marrying a human."

Amy shrugged, fairly nonchalant.

"Maybe, she's special."

"Or, maybe, she's pregnant."

She punched him significantly harder than usual. He still didn't feel it. Since the truth was out anyway, he didn't bother to fake discomfort.

" Did I touch a nerve?"

She huffed and didn't answer. America sighed. He was joking and wasn't even sure that was possible. Arthur hadn't exactly educated him on how country's physiology worked. He doubted that any country could have given him a straight answer on the subject if he asked. They existed, simple as that. Truthfully, he doubted Francis would have married her solely on that criteria anyway.

"She's my friend."

"I'm sorry- what?"

"The girl he's marrying is my friend."

For once, Alfred was speechless. What were the odds of that? In fact, it was such a huge coincidence that his suspicions gnawed at him. On the one hand, he'd have to be an idiot not to question this new development. On the other hand, nothing had surfaced yet that would make any conclusion he drew more than a baseless accusation. So, what if one of her friends knew another high profile country? That didn't mean she was a spy. And if she was, she was a downright horribly spy. Amy was reckless, forward, and as subtle as a red fire engine.

The whole thing with Yong Soo was too like him to be a ruse, Alfred didn't see what he gained by exposing himself like that. So, for now, he decided to keep his mouth shut and not say anything. With a forced smile, he tried his best to sound enthusiastic.

"No way, that's totally awesome, and it even gives you an excuse to visit France more often."

Her initial excitement waned, and her expression resembled someone swallowing a bitter pill. This expression vanished quickly and was replaced with her own version of a fake smile. He didn't like it. The tumult of emotions raised too many questions that he knew she wouldn't answer.

"Yeah, sure, I could do that."

Despite his increasing desire to know what was going on, he fought the urge to ask. He didn't want to push. This was none of his business, and the tension seemed to stem from a personal issue that he probably didn't want to know about.

"Are you two not that close?"

Yeah, he was an idiot for not listening to his own advice, but he wanted to know. And, common sense never stopped him before. Again, there was a flicker of doubt which was quickly discarded in favor of passivity.

"It's complicated."

Alfred frowned. Amy sure knew the best way not to say anything at all. Worse than that, she was starting to shut him out. She wouldn't even look at him anymore. Quick to do damage control, he backtracked significantly. Maybe, it was too soon to take her on such an intimate trip. He didn't want to force her into an uncomfortable situation.

"If you don't want to go-"

She snapped her head up.

"I'm going."

"Okay, just making sure."

After that initial tidbit, Amy didn't divulge anymore information. Satisfied the conversation had run its course, he tried getting up again to no avail. She noticed his distress and helped him up. Eh, maybe, he should cut back on the burgers. At the very least, he should be able to get up on his own. This couldn't be a weight issue though, only his legs had felt heavy as if they were dead asleep while the rest of his body couldn't care less about lifting him off the bed. The minute her hand touched his, it was as if his legs unlocked.

"Is everything alright?"

He shook his head. His legs probably did fall asleep on him.

"Sorry, you had to haul me up like that. I think my legs fell asleep on me."

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'd do the same for me."

That smug little light in her eyes shined brilliantly as if she knew something he didn't. The cocky attitude annoyed him. Where did she get off being a know it at all? He was the hero, dammit.

"Yeah, but I'm like Hercules, and you're the damsel in distress I'm supposed to save."

Amy didn't like his answer one bit. She looked ready to murder him. He flinched reflexively before he even realized she couldn't hurt him. In that time, she punched him harder than she ever had before. Wide eyed, she felt the pain before the rest of her body reacted. Stepping back, she cursed and shook her hand in an attempt to curb the damage. Alfred couldn't help but smile, served her right for punching him all the time. He caught her wrist and massaged it.

"Careful, it's like punching a wall."

Yanking her hand out of his hold, still fuming, she nodded. Alfred doubted she would try that again anytime soon. With an almost patronizing smile, he asked.

"So, what do you want to do now?"

Amy scowled until an idea popped into her head. He could tell by the way her lips slowly curved into a smile, almost against her will. There was another excited flicker in her eyes. Alfred stepped back nervously. A small part of him wanted to run, the more rational part of him wanted to know why.

"Amy, what are you thinking?"

Like a predator, she stepped forward, seeming to relish in Alfred sudden hesitation. With that in mind, he stopped backing away and ignored the sudden rush of adrenaline running through his system. That didn't mean he wasn't aware of the fact he was still in his boxer shorts. He should go change, but he couldn't look away from her eyes.

"I think that I haven't been having near as much fun as I should."

That didn't make any sense to Alfred. They had a ninja popcorn fight the other day and watched a scary movie. What more did she want?

"Do you want to have fun, Alfred?"

He nodded, unsure where she was going with this. (Or, maybe, it was because he knew exactly where she was going with this. Maybe, it wasn't too late to bring Yong Soo back and distract her with his petty ideas of vengeance.) She grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, making him tense. Her eyes quickly melted his resistance, and he found himself breathing deeply as if going into deep meditation.

"It's the nineteen twenties Alfred, and all you want to do is have some fun with me."

_**For those waiting for other stories, don't worry. I'm planning to update The Road I've Never Traveled very soon. This has been nearly done for a few days so I decided to go ahead and finish this up first. **_


	7. When You Take Me On A Trip

When You take Me On A Trip

For once, Amy had been bested, sabotaged by her on words, and in her line of work, words mattered. The subconsciousness had a tendency to take things literally. There was a big difference between telling someone to act like an eight-year-old and be an eight-year-old. So, of course, she had slipped and made a mess of things. The sight before her was downright painful simply because she had learned a few key facts about Alfred in the nineteen twenties. One, he was a hopeless drunk, and two, he was a sexist jerk.

"Come on, baby, don't be a wet blanket. Have some giggle water."

Oh and to top it off, she had made him obsessed with _her. _Good for you Amy, you get to spend your afternoon babysitting the United States of America because you couldn't resist one last roleplay before heading off to France.

"Don't call me that."

Alfred shrugged and chugged another glass of beer. Ah yes, and she had let him out of the house so he could go to a bar with a virtually unlimited alcohol supply because she was just full of brilliant ideas today.

"Fine by me, fly girl, what's eating you?"

Amy went frigid. How drunk was he exactly?

"You are," she said honestly.

A huge grin crossed Alfred's face, and he easily scooped her up and set her on his lap. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, and that made her more than a little anxious. She regretted sitting so close to him. Technically, she could have chaperoned from a distance and still kept him out of trouble. Since he wasn't ooing and awing at every little thing, America probably had kept his memories but regressed to his nineteen twenties persona.

"Huh, well, unless the bank's closed, I'm up for some necking,"

Understanding the gist of it, Amy blushed and got off his lap. Somehow, that was a lot less appealing now that they were in a crowded bar.

"No."

America raised an eyebrow but didn't make a move to grab her again. Amy sighed in relief. Maybe, he wasn't as drunk as she thought. He ordered another glass. Okay, at least, not yet. Looking at her critically, he seemed to draw some sort of conclusion and smirk.

"Didn't you want to have some fun?"

Originally yes but she was becoming more and more unnerved by his devil may care attitude, no matter how glamourous and fun the nineteen twenties had looked to her from a distance. There was simply something off about his persona now, something inherently edgy and patronizing.

"You're definition of fun and my definition of fun are vastly different."

Shaking his head, he took a swig of his beer and patted the seat next to him.

"Then, what do you want to do, doll?"

Reluctantly, she returned to her seat. He wasn't coming off as a crazy drunkard yet.

"Could you just call me Amy?"

Alfred laughed and popped a peanut in his mouth.

"Okay Jane."

She hit him on the shoulder lightly.

"Stop it."

Dragging her barstool closer to him, he wrapped his arm around her. She didn't appreciate his sudden vice grip on her person and struggled. This didn't phase him at all. He wasn't sorry or wiling to let her ago. If anything, her resistance added to his fun. Leaning in close, he chuckled and shoved a peanut in her mouth.

" Chill, you're acting like I'm going to take you for a ride."

She spit the peanut out after nearly choking on it. That was the last straw. She needed to change Alfred back, and she needed to change him back_ now._

"Rocket's red glare."

Nothing happened. As he inspected yet another empty glass, he casually prattled the rest of the verse.

"The bomb's bursting in air, gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. What about it? "

Amy blanched as she realized she had no safety net. Holding her head in her hands, she closed her eyes and tried not to panic. It didn't work.

"No, no, no, that's not supposed to happen."

His grin slowly faded as he realized her distress. Taking longer than he should have to figure out what to do, America patted her back.

"Sorry doll, I'm fried. You sound kind of screwy to me right now."

Amy didn't even try to explain. Any attempt he made to comfort her would only lead to bruises. In fact, all signs of affection would be marred by his condescending tone and complete obliviousness to her feelings. She was sure now that she didn't like this version, and all she really needed to do to get rid of him was say three little magic words.

"Rocket's red glare."

Finally looking a little flushed, he stared at her in confusion.

"Is it some sort of drink?"

Dumbfounded, she stared at him as it slowly sank in that this problem wasn't going away on its own. She couldn't leave him like this, passing herself off as his date was one thing, convincing France that America hadn't gone insane was a lot harder. That wasn't even taking into account the problems it would cause on the home front. Amy needed a reset button, and she knew just the person to call.

"I'll be right back."

America nodded and ordered again.

"Sure, just don't cast a kitten," he said, ignoring the barkeep's suggestion that he stop ordering drinks. She eyed him incredulously. He was becoming less and less comprehensible.

"I don't even know what you're saying anymore," she said.

Nothing she said could dent his smile. Every word out of her mouth was an amusing anecdote to him. In a simple fluid motion, he twirled her toward him and popped yet another peanut into her mouth.

"Don't worry you're pretty little head about it. I'll take care of you."

Amy scowled, her resentment slowly rising. She had a better idea why Amelia Earhart hadn't exactly taken a shine to Alfred. They hadn't met the same person. She detached herself from him and sighed.

"Do me a favor and stop talking."

Giving her what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. He zipped his lips.

"Sure, Amelia, anything for you."

Already on her way out, Amy banged her head against the wall. The words stung more than they should have.

"It's Amy."

"Whatever you say, doll."

This time, Amy didn't bother correcting him and distanced herself as much as possible from the stupid drunkard. She needed to hide before she burst into tears, nothing said, insufferable woman like rabid uncontrollable tears. She would not be making a fool of herself today.

What did she need him for again? A cheap thrill? Some fast money? No, she could get that from anybody. So, why was she putting herself through this? The name Amelia Earhart had never brought her good luck. The name was plain unlucky. The equivalent of a falling star that would destroy itself just after it reached its peak.

Since any thought of Alfred currently left a bitter taste in her mouth, she willed herself outside. The wind left her slightly chilled, but not enough to go back indoors. She was lucky her new jacket served as a good windbreaker. The jacket . . . she took it off and bore the brunt of the cold alone. Perhaps, it was a stupid prideful thing to do but doing so made her feel a hell of a lot better.

"Why did you bring me back? I'm no good to anyone," she said to no one in particular. Not that it mattered at all. There wasn't a soul outside to answer her. No one wanted to sit outside on a blustery day like today.

"I'm not the same so . . . " She trailed off. This was pointless.

"Never mind. You don't have to answer that." Not that she believed anyone would, she said it mostly to quiet her own mind. There were other matters to attend to, much easier to solve than determining her own self worth.

A little apprehensive, she scrolled down her contact list to the one name that she rarely called these days. Sporting a fake plastic smile, she mentally prepared herself for miss Double O Seven.

"Elly, mon ami, I need a favor."

Wherever she was, it was dead silent except for her own miserable sigh.

"What is it now?"

Knowing that it was no use lying, she decided that it was better to make the situation sound worse than it actually was. So, she squealed like her life was on the line.

"Alfred's mind set is stuck in the nineteen twenties. He's slapped my butt twice, gambled away three of his private estates, and ran over his cat. I would really appreciate it if you made this go away."

Again, silence, Amy wondered if she had been preparing for bed. She could think of no other reason for the quiet. Frankly, Elly, was always out doing something, whether traversing some busy street or practicing her marksmanship.

"Poor choice of words?" she asked, more than a little smug.

"Poor choice of words," Amy admitted in resignation. She was in for a scolding.

"Shame, here I thought you were finally being responsible and showing restraint."

Amy rolled her eyes, typical. Her job demanded she take risks and push people's limits. She wasn't working in a freaking clinic. She did everything and anything including espionage, murder, and kidnapping. And yet, Elly still didn't get that not everyone who enjoyed their particular talents played hero, especially her.

"Not this again, everything was going fine until-"

"You got careless," she finished.

The truth almost did her in, but after a brief pause, she refused to simply agree with her, no matter how badly she needed the reset. One little mistake did not make her irresponsible. Amy would recover from this setback.

"Hey, this isn't that big a deal."

"Then, fix it yourself."

Shoot, that was the last thing she wanted to do. Getting a drunk who already had attention span issues to focus was hard, and Amy knew that the longer he kept this reckless mind set the more likely he would end up hurting himself or others.

"Wait. You have to help me. I can't snap him out of it."

"Oh please, you were putting people under by the time you were five," Elly insisted. Amy scoffed and answered back, "For survival."

Elly hadn't exactly had the experience she had. Her foster parents hadn't pushed her like the agency had pushed her. If she was bringing that up, she must really want to deny her a reset.

"That's not the point. I'm tired of having to bail you out all the time," Elly said.

Really, she made a simple little reset sound like Amy was asking her to create life. All it would take was one little flick of the wrist to solve her problems, and Elly had the gall to refuse her.

"Come on, you bail Lisa out of sticky situations without giving her the third degree."

But no, Lisa embodied her damn past life perfectly and almost never made mistakes. So, Elly had no reason to doubt her. Amy on other hand had to beg for even this small favor.

"Don't even compare your minor inconveniences to Lisa's problems. She's almost died ten times. Frankly, the girl needs to learn when to hold back," Elly said, starting to go on a tangent about how the two of them should be more careful. Yes because little miss Double O Seven certainly never took risks, having a reset button at her disposal and all, hypocrite.

"I can't believe you're being so stingy. You've been alive eighteen years. Your power hasn't ripped a hole in the space time continuum yet," she argued.

"I can't, okay. Something's come up," she said, sounding none too happy about whatever it was. Amy had an idea of what would have her in such a hurry.

"Lisa's wedding?"

Elly laughed as if the thought had barely crossed her mind. There was a slight raspy noise like two pieces of plastic rubbing together.

"I actually have other business to attend to, but I'll be sure to stop by if I can," she promised. Typical Elly, avoiding anything remotely familial, she wasn't having it.

"You're not missing the wedding."

Elly had a comeback prepared, perfectly aware of Amy's own shortcomings.

"You're not sabotaging the wedding."

Amy smirked. With all the commotion, she'd actually forgotten. New plans formed, some silly and trite while others were much more sinister and complex. She shook her head and tried to dispel the unwanted thoughts. As much as she wanted Lisa to be happy, the temptation lingered.

"We'll see."

"Fine. Go ahead and illicit Lisa's wrath. I dare you."

Her grin did not subside after the empty threat. Lisa wasn't all that intimidating. They were friends and at most, she'd receive a hard smack on the cheek for interfering. The rewards were well worth the risk.

"Don't think I won't."

Seeing the very real possibility for sabotage, the urgency in Elly's voice picked up.

"I know the situation is less than ideal, but it's her choice."

Pfft, to Amy, choice was relative, what a person wanted wasn't set in stone. She could technically change someone's entire personality if he or she was willing to cooperate. And, as far as she was concerned, this sudden engagement wasn't worth protecting.

"If you went crazy and tried to marry England, wouldn't you want me to stop you?" Amy asked honestly. Elly inhaled a sharp intake of breath, taking a while to slow her breathing back to normal. Amy must have struck a nerve.

"Believe me, the day I step foot in England again is the day I die."

The answer was a little too grim for Amy's tastes. They had survived. They were the best. They weren't old birds yet. Besides, there was no one to replace them or the agency would have shot them down the minute they escaped.

"No need to be so dramatic," she answered with a fake laugh. Elly caught on pretty quickly that she'd made a mistake.

"Forget I said anything. Let's get to the real problem," Elly said.

She scowled. After what happened to Ed, Elly had become such a mother hen. Amy flicked the gunk out of her nails and prepared to tune her out.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"After you fix him, you need to stop messing with America. You're playing with fire."

Amy rolled her eyes. Yes, because going to Russia's wasn't playing with frost burn, Elly hadn't said a peep about that mission.

"Relax, so, I made one mistake. I've been around far scarier countries."

"Amy, listen, this is different."

"Not really, if anything, he's been the easiest to hypnotize until he got drunk of his ass," she muttered darkly. Amy couldn't wait for him to sober up and get a hangover. Then, she could exact real vengeance.

"Think of it this way, each country's government represents a different kind of parent," Elly said, choosing her words carefully. For all Amy knew, she had been rehearsing this since she found out Amy would be taking a job in America.

"Okay, I'm following you so far."

"Russia's government lets their country run around without supervision because-"

"He's a freak of nature?" Amy said, still a little sore about being choked with a scarf.

"Not what I would have gone with but . . . sure. Now, Canada's government lets Matthew live alone because he's responsible."

Okay, the metaphor was getting kind of dull. Of course, no government treated their country exactly the same. Chaos would ensue otherwise.

"Where are you going with this?"

"The U.S. government would be the unfortunate sap that got stuck with the ADD kid that requires constant supervision. Do you really think you can keep taking advantage of him without his government finding out and going ballistic? Get out while you still can," Elly said, tone growing steadily more forceful as she went on.

"But-"

"No Amy, you can't keep him. You're in over your head."

Was she though? The U.S. government didn't know who she was. Her presence in of itself wouldn't cause them alarm particularly when America already adored her. If she really wanted to insert herself into Alfred's life, she could. So, she posed a counter question.

"Who says I can't?"

Before she could hear the indignant reply that was sure to follow, two arms wrapped around her torso like iron chains. She tensed. Shit, Amy hadn't expected him to care enough to go outside and find her if she took too long.

"What's the hold up, doll face?" he whispered. She ignored him and held the phone closer to her ear.

"Let me rephrase. I'm sure you can, but you shouldn't."

"Mhm," she mumbled as Alfred started planting butterfly kisses on her neck. It was beyond distracting as was the creeping warmth his body provided. Amy didn't feel so cold anymore.

"Are you even listening?"

"Yes, Elly, please, get me out of this. I don't think I can take it."

If things continued to go the way they were going, she was going to do something she'd regret. Amy didn't get to hear her answer. Alfred pried the phone out of her hands and shut it off.

"That's enough of that."

Amy shot him a death glare. He wrapped her discarded jacket around her. She didn't protest. The cold made it hard to care, being warm was more important to her right now.

"I don't know what you were thinking, fly girl. You'll catch a cold."

"Don't call me that."

Alfred frowned as if he'd never known something so averse to nicknames.

"Why not?"

Clutching the jacket tightly, she made a split second decision. No, he wouldn't remember. It was fine to tell him.

"I'm afraid of flying."

The little tidbit hit him like a ton of bricks. It seemed to snap him back to reality a little. She was _not_ Amelia Earhart.

"Oh, when did that happen?"

Or not, if anything, she'd only made him more distressed as what she told him didn't quite fit with how he saw the world. Nothing would convince him that it had always been this way. This wasn't a problem for her. She was, in fact, eager to prove he had the wrong girl.

"I've always been afraid of flying."

"I see." He sat down on the bench, trembling for reasons beyond the cold. The illusion was starting to break down. She should probably ease his suffering a little. Amy sat down next to him and took his hand.

"Al, I want you to listen very carefully."

He nodded, still speechless.

"We could talk about this like rational adults," she offered.

Taking a deep breath, he smiled.

"I'd like that." Of course, he would. America liked simple and direct choices, and she was about to take full advantage of that.

"Or, we could have some fun."

Amy kissed him right on the lips, making sure to linger and add some incentive. She was counting on fun being the vastly superior option. Instead of reacting like she expected, he smirked and patted her cheek

"You're definition of fun and my definition of fun are vastly different," he answered back.

Well aware, he'd shot her down. She swallowed her pride for the sake of snapping him out of this painfully awkward persona. Damn her own subconscious for making her think this was ever a good idea.

"I don't think so. In fact, I think we could both benefit from a little privacy," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pecking his cheek. Her suggestive tone and chaste move was enough to make him think twice.

"What did you have in mind?"

Amy bit her lip. She had been bluffing and saying anything now would force her hand later. So, she went with the best nonverbal response she could think up. Giving him a sly wink, she took his keys and walked away, sure he would follow. And, he did, looking ready to run her down and take her on the cracked pavement.

Weary of that humiliation, she expertly jumped into the convertible and strapped herself in. She jumped when he did the same thing, a split second later. Hyperventilating slightly, she reminded herself she wanted him in the car.

"Let's beat it, doll face."

After turning on the engine, she deliberately navigated away from the crowded bar to emptier streets. She needed as little distractions as possible around them and for that, she needed to return to the suburbs.

While she focused on driving, Alfred didn't touch her. Instead, he was hyper focused on her, already in a calm meditative state as he waited for them to reach their destination. She couldn't believe her luck, the usually hyper American looked about ready to hit the floor. Since this opportunity likely wouldn't come again, Amy risked sneaking him into a trance.

"Get nice and comfortable," she said.

Folding his seat back, he lay down and stretched, eyes still on her.

"Are you nice and comfortable yet, Al?"

"Ab-so-lute-ly, doll. I'm happy when I'm with you."

Staring straight ahead, her posture remained unnatural, like a rigid mannequin inside a fake car. She focused on keeping her tone level and continued talking.

"You like car rides don't you?"

"Yeah," he said, yawning.

Encouraged by this small victory, she eased her grip on the steering well and slowed down. The nearly identical suburban houses would make the perfect repetitive pattern to work with.

"The way we go around and around so everything blurs together and looks the same," she added.

"Uhuh," his eyes struggled to stay open, and he was dangerously close to an actual deep sleep where her words would be useless. She snapped her fingers at him, and he perked up. Seeming to remember the reason for their escapade, he sat up, very alert.

"I thought we were-"

"Shhh, relax Al, I'm driving," she said, pressing her hand on his chest. He cooperated and leaned back on his chair, still confused.

"But-"

"You trust me. Don't you?" she asked him. He smiled lazily, too drowsy to fight back.

"Of course I do. You're Amelia Earhart."

"I-sure, why not? I'm Amelia Earhart. I flew a plane once, whoop-de-doo," she said, hands in the air briefly, before she started clutching the steering wheel again. Life was too short to start correcting insane people, especially ones who would snap out of it on their own.

"You flew a lot more than that, doll."

He patted her back as if it was something to be proud of.

"Sure and I had a fashion line and was just so _freaking perfect_,"she hissed.

"Of course, you were . . . Once you started something, you didn't just stop. It's not in your nature," he said, patting her head affectionately.

"I guess so."

His tone changed, and this time she could tell she wasn't talking to a fragment of his personality anymore. This was the real deal.

"But why did you push yourself so hard? If you had stopped . . ."

"I wouldn't be god damned Amelia Earhart," she answered automatically.

The sudden epiphany did wonders for her psyche. She felt lighter as she accepted it. A long time ago, she had been a stubborn fool that didn't want to be treated as cargo luggage on a plane ride, and she had simply kept going. She had flown, freely and often, pushing herself one trip too far, but that was okay. She didn't need to do that again. She didn't need to fly to still be the same person she was.

"I guess not," Alfred said, also looking fairly at peace now that he had finally received an answer. Amy grinned wickedly. He should be fairly compliant after getting that much baggage off his shoulders.

"Anyway, look up at the sky, Alfred." she said, pointing up. Lover boy wasn't interested.

"I'd rather look at you."

Unfortunately, having to keep her eyes on the road meant she wouldn't be able to reel him in while his attention was completely focused on her. What a waste, she was tempted to stop the car and get it over with. Her desire to get them home before dark won out.

"Please?"

"Sure thing, doll face, if that's what you want," he said.

"Look at the clouds and feel your head get lighter and lighter," she said, working with what she had on hand. She should really add some shiny swinging pendulum or something to the dashboard in case she had to hypnotize him in the car again. Using abstract methods to get a person under was harder, particularly when she was improvising heavily.

"I hope you realize I'm already hypnotized," Alfred said cheerfully.

Amy pushed the brakes. He was-

"What?"

Alfred chuckled.

"Think about it, what do you think is in America's subconscious, an empty black hole? No, it's everything he is and doesn't want to be anymore. "

Of course, she knew damn well that America's subconscious wasn't empty. She was mostly amazed that she'd been talking to his subconscious the whole time, or at least, the buried nineteen twenty's persona.

"But-"

"Did you ever snap me out of trance?"

"No but- Dammit, I'm an idiot," Amy admitted finally. Elly was right. She was too careless. How could she forget something as simple as waking him up?

"Don't say that. You're one of the best people I ever knew."

"I-I'm not Amelia Earhart okay. Forget I ever told you that we were alike. "

This wasn't a simple request by any means. By now, the connection between her and Amelia Earhart had been firmly established in his brain. He seemed reluctant to throw the connection away as if it were mere coincidence.

"No, I don't think so."

Getting a little irritated, she asked.

"Why not?"

"It doesn't matter. I like you anyway."

The sentiment caught her off guard and left her guilty. She must have made a mistake. There was no way he liked her. She had forced her way into his life for the sake of a job and had only thought of staying because he was easy to play with and had lots of money on hand.

"No, you don't. You liked Amelia Earhart. I'm a fraud. "

A bemused look crossed Alfred's face as if it never occurred to him that she might react negatively. The gravity of what she said sank in. Amy parked the car and waited for him to explode in a fit of rage. Alfred put an arm around her. She blinked. His subconscious was a lot more patient.

"Is that what you think? It's pretty obvious to me that you're her reincarnation. Why else would I have put up with you this long?"

Amy wanted to strangle him. She was trying her best to get him out of their arrangement, and he was simply too thick to get it. Whatever, she didn't need to break the hold she had over him to leave.

"Alfred, I'm a hired agent. The only reason I stayed this long was because you were fun to play with. When I snap you out of trance, you're going to ask me to leave because you know I'm no good for you. "

She had barely finished the sentence when he pulled her into an embrace.

"Please don't go. I'll give you anything you want."

"Alfred, that's not the problem. Can't you see I'm trying to be nice?"

He shook his head furiously and squeezed her harder. She gasped, slowly losing her capacity to breathe. His subconscious wasn't very good at showing restraint. She must be talking to the id.

"I'll do anything you want. I promise."

The offer was tempting. Alfred's subconscious was basically giving her a blank check to do whatever she wanted to his brain, and Amy had a big imagination. Then again, there were many things working against her brain at the moment: the cold, his suffocating arms, and even his strangely effective puppy dog eyes. Her desire to breathe won.

"Alfred, what happens to bunnies when you squeeze them too hard?" The words were painful to get out, but he understood her intentions well enough. He let her go, and she could breathe easy again.

"Sorry." He smoothed her jacket's sleeves and fixed her hair as if she were a mistreated Barbie doll. She let him, seeing as he looked more freaked out than she honestly felt. He finally had the sense to stop when he reached her lower torso.

"It's okay. I know you weren't trying to hurt me."

She spent the next few minutes holding her sides while she mentally pulled herself together. There had to be a way out of this. She was trying to do the right thing for once, dammit. Alfred turned on the radio and put it on a jazz station.

"No jazz."

"What do you like, then?"

"Erm, jazz actually, I just don't want to hear it right now."

Alfred nodded and turned the radio off. She sighed.

"If you want to listen to something else, you can."

He complied and set the radio to a classic rock station. It still bothered her that he took it as an order, but she wasn't willing to bring it up when he wasn't completely himself.

"I really will do whatever you want. I don't mind. But if you're really sick of me, you can go. All you have to do is say the right words."

Amy winced. He didn't realize what he was saying. Giving her that much control showed an incredible amount of trust, trust she hadn't earned, and she could be a monster when she wanted to be. With that in mind, she chose her next words carefully.

"Tell you what Alfred, we'll go to France just like I said we would, but-"

"But what? Are you trying to trick me into letting you go?"

He very gingerly wrapped his arms around hers almost as if he wasn't touching her at all. On some level, his subconscious recognized that he needed to be careful. And yet, that's where the maturity ended. Like a petulant child, he pouted and rested his chin on her shoulder. She ignored the spectacle and continued.

"But, if you don't love me by the end of the trip, you will remember everything I ever said and did to you in and out of trance. Does that sound fair?"

Alfred nodded vigorously, liking the idea a lot. She thought he might. The arrangement didn't force him to give up anything. There was no risk involved. He already thought he liked her, and losing would only make his conscious aware of what he knew already. Amy was counting on conscious America to be a lot less understanding.

"Okay, I'm going to wake you up now. And when I do, you'll feel refreshed and alert. Does that sound good?"

Alfred nodded, still clinging to her. She only took a second to think of what she might like to add. She shook her head. No, she didn't want anymore trouble. After the night she had, Amy was perfectly content to leave him as he was.

"Bomb's Bursting in Air."

As always, America jumped a little when he snapped out of his stupor. Blinking rapidly, he shook his head and yawned

"Where are we?"

Oh, she didn't think she'd have to explain. Skeptical, he looked around at the near identical housing surrounding them. After a few minutes, he relaxed as if recognizing the place. He looked down at his clothes and frowned before suddenly feeling top of his head to see what he'd stuck there. He took off his fedora, even more suspicious now. She sported her fake smile, and kept telling herself, Just keeping smiling Amy and this whole thing will go away.

"And why am I in a zoot suit?"

Letting the smile fade, she went with the first excuse that came to mind.

"It was the first thing you took out of your closet this morning so you put it on?"

Rubbing his head, he kept staring at the hat as if it had possessed him.

"Sounds like me, I guess I was tired."

"Uhuh, that must be it, you're very lazy when you want to be."

America laughed and put the fedora back on. He eyed her thoughtfully before giving her a warm smile that out shown her insincere smile by a mile .

"The way you talk to me sometimes, it almost sounds like you've known me for years. Funny huh?"

Amy didn't plan to say anything at first. She turned on the car and focused on the road, anything to avoid bringing up her reincarnated status. Was it her fault she had technically never met him and yet had at the same time? No, she just had to brush off weird coincidences like these once in a while, that's all.

"It was only a hunch."

His warm smile burst into a flat out grin.

"We must be soul mates."

She couldn't keep the look of horror off her face, and she nearly ran them off the road after he said it. America's reflexes kicked in and prevented her from crashing into a mail box. Still on the verge of panicking, she stopped the car and collected her scattered thoughts. Patting her pack, America laughed again, and only then, did Amy realize he had been joking.

"Wow. The look on your face, have you been thinking about me?" he said with a wink.

Amy shook her head and started laughing too. Maybe, the idiot wouldn't make the trip to Alsace unbearable after all. She certainly hoped so.

* * *

**_Phew, it's finally done. I had fun with this one. For those waiting for other updates, The Road I Never Traveled chapter probably won't be out till Thursday at the latest do to school work. _**

**_Thank you for the feedback. While I have used this character before, this is what I refer to as Bad Past Amy. I will likely slowly make more known about her as we go on. There are practical and structural reasons for doing so. For now, we've mostly had Alfred chapters, and I think this is partly to blame for her motives not being clear as he doesn't know what's going on for the most part or at least, not for very long. I hope this has cleared some of that up. Otherwise, she is simply a distrustful character who would be unlikely to reveal any crucial information to her target at the get go. _**

**_As for Arthur, I did have plans to involve him at some point, but I hadn't decided anything definite. Due to some of the points you made, he'll likely be brought up sooner than I originally planned. Also, since you asked, Arthur will likely be getting his own chapters as I like writing in his point of view, and because he won't be directly involved with Alfred and Amy's exploits in France till much later. _**


	8. I Simply Can't Resist

I Simply Can't Resist

On some level, he realized he had a plane to catch in an hour, but a lot things were working against him this morning. For one, America had a splitting head ache, two, he had a feeling he'd forgotten something terribly important about his house guest (again), and worst of all, he'd be forced to leave the country less than a week after he'd comeback, because Francis had to go and find "true love." Whatever, he didn't care if he was invited, nothing was going to force him out of bed today.

"Alfred, get dressed, we have to leave."

He grumbled something from under the sheets. Maybe, he wasn't intelligible, but America was sure he'd gotten his message across. Alfred wasn't getting up anytime soon, and sure enough, he could hear her sigh and walk away. Unfortunately, a few minutes later, Amy threw a bucket of cold water on him. He instantly jumped out of bed and cursed.

"Normally, I'd coax you out of bed, but we don't have time for that. Change your clothes, you reek of alcohol," she said. Alfred pouted, rubbing his chilled arms. Was it him or was she suddenly a lot less sweet?

"Fine, wait for me downstairs, I'll be down in a minute," Alfred said, already absently taking off his shirt. Bleh, he must be really tired if he didn't have the presence of mind to wait for her to leave the room. Alfred hastily buttoned his shirt back up. She smirked.

" Shy America?"

"Amy, do we really need to have a talk about boundaries?"

"No, I've already seen you without any. I didn't like it," she said, reminding him of yet another blurred memory that he wasn't getting back. Oh well, time to do damage control, he didn't want things to get awkward if they didn't have to.

"Hey, if I did anything weird yesterday, I'm sorry," he said, deciding that was ambiguous enough to branch off of if he didn't behave as badly as he thought he did.

"Don't worry about it, just hurry up," she said, avoiding eye contact with him, yet sporting a playful smile. This told him two things. He had definitely misbehaved, but so, had she. Therefore, the two cancelled each other out, and he really didn't need to worry about it.

"Someone's eager to get on an eight hour plane ride aaaannd you're gone, about time," Alfred muttered, putting on the clothes that she'd left for him on the dresser. He was too lazy to pick out his own clothes, and he didn't want her to come in and nag him for taking too long either. When he walked into the kitchen, Alfred did not expect to find her stabbing an empty Ramen noodle cup while absently scrolling through her phone. The vacant far away look in her eyes bothered him. He was still not awake enough to even begin figuring out what had brought this sudden change, but he was going to try anyway.

"Chill, we're going to France, not a war zone," he said, sitting down next to her.

"Yeah, of course, not, hey, Alfred, are you sure Francis never mentioned Lisa to you?"

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember France talking about a pretty girl he just met that might be "the one." Eh, actually, I could see how I might have tuned it out, my bad. Why?"

"No reason, I'm being idiot about this. It was bound to happen eventually," she said, putting the fork down and picking up the battered foam cup.

"What?"

"Let's just say, statistically, one of us was bound to get a happy ending. Elly came so close, but then, she mentioned something about pissing off a Timelord. Eh, I don't know. I think she might have been drunk,"she said, slowly ripping the cup into long strips.

"So, you're not happy?" America asked.

"Don't take it so personally, Alfred. I just mean this isn't permanent. Now, the whole marriage thing, that shit's permanent, " she said, and he started getting a touch defensive. They hadn't even discussed how long she'd be staying, and for the life of him, Alfred couldn't really say why he wanted her to stick around. Only, that he desperately wanted to keep her content.

"Like fifty percent of the time," he mumbled. The idea of marriage had never sat well with him, at least not in an ideological sense. He saw the practicality of marriage, both for nations (or at least when it was more common) and people, and it was fine for everybody else, but as a country, no, as Alfred, he didn't really see the point of it. Why make a big flagrant display showing that you owned someone when you could spend that time having fun?

"We're talking about France, so sixty two percent of the time," she said, correcting him using that stupid search option on her phone.

"Whatever, what makes you think that you're not going to get a happy ending too?" Alfred said, reminded once again that he didn't know that much about her. Was it something he did last night that made her miserable or just some piece of her past that she hadn't been all that clear about in the first place? She'd been a little too vague about who she really was. He'd have to fix that.

Of course, she didn't answer the question right away, and instead, passed him some leftover Chinese food that she'd heated up. It finally dawned on Alfred that he hadn't gone grocery shopping yet. Oh well, they were leaving soon anyway, and Amy had been nice enough to leave him some kung pow chicken.

"Simple, I'm not supposed to. My life isn't really my own. If I let my guard down even for a second, I lose what little I have," she said, and while Amy clearly meant every word, he couldn't take her seriously. She was wearing designer clothes, and buying anything from that small faux Italian coffee shop didn't exactly come cheap.

"Okay, never mind, I get it. You're a sad sack by choice," he said, knowing full well that he was lighting a very short fuse. Put off, she set the phone aside and grabbed him by the collar, glaring at him in the typical female fashion that warned him that he had three seconds to take it back if he didn't want to start a stupid argument. Unfortunately for her, America thrived on such stupid arguments.

"What did you just call me?"

Alfred couldn't keep himself from smiling. He was particularly fond of easily angered red heads, and even better, her attempt to intimidate him by grabbing him by the collar had only brought them closer together, a miscalculation that was costing her dearly. Her face was flushed, and he remained as calm and collected as ever. Compared to spending a stupidly awful amount of time with Russia on the space station, this was a walk through the park.

"You can't let yourself be happy. I'm taking you to France, free of charge, and you, Amy, are acting like everyone is out to get you," he said, lightly poking her with his plastic fork for emphasis.

"Because they are," she snapped. There was a brief awkward silence before she let him go and collected her phone. She clearly planned to bolt so he grabbed her arm. This was something he needed to make sure didn't cause him trouble later on. Alfred looked her over. She refused to meet his eyes and again Amy seemed afraid, except this time it had nothing to do with him, at least, not directly. Normally, he would consider this kind of talk to be exaggerated teenage melodrama, but his instincts were telling him to take this seriously.

"Amy, if you're in trouble, now, would be a really good time to fess up," America said. She narrowed her eyes, and again, he had the urge to cover her mouth before she could speak. Alfred hesitated. He didn't need to do that. Amy obviously felt threatened, what he needed to do was put her at ease. Alfred pulled her down onto his lap and put a hand on her shoulder. Instead of relaxing, Amy stiffened.

"Trust me, whatever it is, I can handle it."

"I've been running for a long time, America. You may think you know the answers to everybody's problems, but you don't," Amy said. He had only a few precious seconds of consciousness where he was allowed to be indignant before she opened her mouth again.

"Rocket's red glare," Then, his eyes shut, and whatever restraint he'd shown before disappeared as his body melted into hers which would have been fine if he wasn't accidentally crushing her with his weight. Aware of her struggle to push him up and away from her, he opened his eyes and tried to get up, only for her arms to snake around his waist. He looked down, confused as she gasped, her reassuring smile made ineffective by her thundering heart.

"Keep your eyes closed for a minute," she whispered, and he found himself easily complying. Now that he'd straightened out, her breathing was steadier.

"No more questions okay. You're just happy that I'm going with you. It doesn't matter where I came from," she said, making him frown. That wasn't fair.

"But I want to know,"Alfred said, enjoying the comfortable warm sensation of holding another person. When was the last time he'd held someone for this long? He vaguely remembered carrying some soldier through the jungle, deftly afraid his efforts would be in vain. No, this wasn't the same. Oh wait, there was that one time Canada had fallen asleep on him when America had been panicking about Y2K. Did that count? She started rubbing his back, and he lost any motivation he had to get up.

"I'll tell you later," she reassured him, and it was tempting to believe her and drop the subject, but he needed to know. If he let some stranger into his life without ever finding anything about her, England would never let him hear the end of it, even if she was harmless enough.

"Really?" he asked. Alfred could wait, maybe.

"I'll think about it," she said, letting him go and patting his cheek. Bleh, she was teasing him.

"But-"

"Get your bags, we're leaving,"she said.

"Yes Amy," he said, without really moving. Alfred needed a nap, and he liked having someone to wrap his arms around. She sighed again and snapped her fingers at him a few times. He moaned, refusing to get up. America didn't want to go to France, dammit. He just got back from Europe.

"Please Alfred or would you prefer I go alone?" she asked.

"No, I'll get my bags," he said with a sigh. There was no need. She handed him his luggage, and Alfred couldn't help but feel played.

"You're going to have to tell me eventually," he said, getting up.

"Does it matter really? You're America. You'd jump in and save the day even if you didn't know what was going on. You're a hero," she said. He could tell he was slipping farther into his own mind because he readily ate up the praise.

"You think so?" he mumbled. America was treading a very fine line. He was close to snapping out of trance, but the flattery was luring him into a false sense of security.

"I know so. There is no one else I'd rather have protecting me," she said, squeezing his free hand. Caught off guard, America beamed. People rarely called him a hero ( and when they did, it wasn't always meant sincerely.) He didn't complain a lick after that.

Everything was going smoothly. They'd both packed light, and Amy had the foresight to call the taxi service beforehand. This wasn't much of a surprise. She'd taken care of most everything else. Despite his dreamlike stupor, he struggled to remember if he'd done anything of note in the last few days. Uhm, he'd baked a pie? She opened the door for him. Alfred hesitated and resisted the urge to scramble inside like a good puppy. It's not like he minded someone else taking charge that much, but with that one small gesture, he finally realized that he did want a little control.

"Get in."

"You first," America said. Her glare was toxic, and Alfred nearly backed down. He was going against the natural order of things, or at least, what had become the norm since she arrived. Was this a stupid time to make a power play? Yes. Would he let this go? No. She seemed to realize that, and they were in a hurry.

"Fine." She got in first, and Alfred followed suit, satisfied that he'd made his point.

Once they were inside, she said something to him and America became very drowsy. She started talking to the taxi driver who had a striking resemblance to Hong Kong. In fact, he was convinced that the taxi driver was Hong Kong and that he'd eventually acknowledge him. Instead, the two continued to converse in Chinese, and Alfred was starting to think he was mistaken. There was really only one way to find out.

"Leon?" he asked. The cabdriver didn't turn, but the man was clearly smiling.

"Alfred, why don't you lay down? You're tired remember?" Amy reminded him. He yawned and automatically embraced her. She squirmed uncomfortably. The taxi guy chuckled .

"What's the matter?" he mumbled. Amy hadn't minded before, kind of. Unless . . . he glared at Hong Kong. Amy glanced nervously at Leon who snickered.

"We're only acquaintances," she said. Leon grinned and answered slyly,

"That's not the impression I got in Beijing. In fact, you were going to stay with me before you figured out that I live off the allowance China gives me. After that, I was as good as broke to you."

"So, you're a gold digger," he said casually, amused by her sudden pale complexion and panicked expression. Maybe, she wasn't in mortal peril per say but was simply looking to avoid a bitter ex with the means to hunt her down. Miraculously, she recovered in seconds, giving Leon an apologetic smile.

"You know I didn't leave China because of that," she said. Leon sighed.

"Then, why do I only see you when you're working?" This puzzled Alfred. He hadn't seen Amy doing anything remotely resembling work.

"You work?" he asked.

Hong Kong laughed hysterically. Amy shot him a look.

"Not now, Leon," she hissed. After that, she turned her full attention to Alfred.

"Go into a deep sleep now, America, I'll wake you up when we get there," she said. His building fatigue finally got to him, and he shamelessly buried his face in her neck and used her as a pillow. The deep darkness was nothing new, but he couldn't quite get himself to follow the command and shut his brain off completely. He could still hear everything they said so he might as well shake off his weariness at least until they were actually on the plane. Amy must have noticed him open his eyes because she started stroking his hair.

"I'm not a cat," he muttered. This time both Leon and Amy laughed.

"Of course not, but you're going to meow like a kitty anyway," she said. Alfred didn't see a reason not to give in.

"Meow," he answered instantly. The word itself meant nothing, but Alfred couldn't help but feel embarrassed by it anyway. He hid his face, not registering that this would only make him appear even more kitten like to her.

"Now purr, I promise you'll feel amazing," she said, rubbing his back and planting a few kisses on his neck. It was at this point that Alfred struggled to resist. As the subconscious, his reactions were very much tied to the pleasure centers in his brain. He started purring. She laughed, and it was at this point that Leon didn't join her.

"That's sad. If this was the kind of stuff you did to Russia, I can see why he choked you with a scarf" Hong Kong said. Amy shot him an incredulous look. Alfred couldn't exactly defend himself. Now that he started, he couldn't stop purring.

"Shut up, he likes it," she said, proving her point by getting him to purr louder.

"I don't know. To me, it's seems more like taking advantage of someone while they're on medication," Hong Kong said. For once, he had to agree with Leon. The way he was feeling now, he couldn't refuse her anything. America guessed it was his fault for giving himself so completely to her last time they talked. Maybe, he should have added a within reason clause when he told her she could do whatever she wanted to him.

"Okay, if it bothers you that much Leon, I'll cut it out. You can stop purring now, Alfred. When I snap my fingers, you're going to be dead to the world for the next fifteen minutes, and you'll completely forget Hong Kong was here,." He was about to protest since they were almost there anyway, but there wasn't room for argument. He blacked out.

"Times up America, bombs bursting in air." He had already woken up but instinctively stood when he felt a familiar jolt, hitting his head on the roof of the taxi cab. Rubbing his head, he was highly disoriented and confused. The last thing he'd remembered was eating kung pow chicken in the kitchen. How were they here already? Something had to be up.

"How did we get to the airport so fast?" he asked. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and picked up her suitcase, looking at him coyly.

"Magic," she said. Considering his history, he couldn't help but take this personally for a variety of reasons.

"Yeah right," he said grumpily.

"Shush, you can talk after we get past security," she said as she waved goodbye to the taxi driver. He looked mysteriously like Hong Kong. He wasn't allowed to dwell on this long as she dragged him into the airport itself. After seeing the Brachiosaurus, he followed more willingly. America knew exactly where he was. They arrived at a security checkpoint. The line was long, but he was used to long lines. While they were waiting, he wondered why he hadn't thought to take his jet instead. Meh, he supposed it would have been a hassle to ask the pilot to fly to Chicago for personal business. Besides, going to crowded places like this let him people watch and so far, Alfred had spotted a single mom returning home from vacation, looking more worn out and ragged than she probably was before she took her five kids out of town, a man with a bird carrier who had found out the hard way that there was a limit to how many live animals were allowed per flight, and a teenage boy that hadn't thought to take off all his piercing before going through the machine. Thankfully, he had his boarding pass and id ready, and as far as he knew, Amy hadn't packed anything that would deliberately make security suspicious.

They were stopped which America found odd. Security usually let him pass without any trouble, but he realized quickly he wasn't the problem. Something in Amy's bag had set off the machine. He didn't catch what they were saying, but he didn't have to. The machete the security guy pulled out of her bag spoke volumes.

" Mam, you're not allowed to pack this kind of thing in your bag. Now, this looks decorative to me so I'm going to assume you didn't know better, but you're going to have to leave it here or have it shipped to your destination."

"I have no idea how that got in there. I must have chucked it in there without thinking. I'd like it shipped to Lorraine, France. I have a friend there that can get it back to me."

America wasn't so sure this was an accident. The dagger had been concealed under a false bottom in the luggage. They were going really easy on her. He didn't think she'd honestly pack something like that on purpose. Something didn't feel right. Then, he noticed the South Korean crest on the knife's hilt. He scanned the crowd, and sure enough, he saw Yong Soo waving at them from further down the line. Ugh, apparently, he had already started his petty quest to mildly inconvenience them . . . yay. Amy didn't seem to mind. She waved back.

"Come on Alfred, I took care of it. We can still catch our flight if we hurry up."

"But Yong Soo-"

"Snuck into your house and out of all the things he could have done planted a knife that he knew wouldn't get me into that much trouble. He's just trying to get a reaction out of us, don't give him the satisfaction." The sprinklers went off. Amy happened to be wearing a suede jacket and name brand make up.

"Okay, he's a dead man," Amy said, ready to pounce on Yong Soo and annihilate him. America caught her before she got very far, deciding that she had a point. Why waste his energy on him? He had a plane to catch. Alfred lifted her up and started speed walking to their gate so they could enter the boarding area. Amy continued to struggle and hit him, even if she should know by now that hitting him wouldn't phase America in the slightest. He was built to sustain a lot more damage than anything she could supply. She finally lost momentum when they reached the line to enter their plane. He put her down, and the lady asked for their boarding passes. This time, there weren't any nasty surprises, and he even discovered her last name, Alwood. Amy Alwood always aims high. A little heavy on the alliteration, but he decided he liked it.

"Why are you giddy all of a sudden?" Alfred could tell her, but he didn't want to sound like a dork. Now that they were inside the plane, her usual confidence and charm withered and she hastily took the aisle seat. He didn't mind. Alfred preferred the window seat.

"No reason. Are you ready to be stuck on a plane with me for the next eight hours?" he asked gleefully. She smiled, getting a pill bottle out. Her hands were kind of shaky.

"I'm sure that the time will just fly by."

"What's that for?" he asked. Amy chucked two pills into her mouth and took a drink of water. She sighed in relief and buckled her seatbelt.

"Sleeping pills, planes make me nervous," she said. Alfred couldn't hide his disappointment. He wanted to get to know her better, and she'd waited until the last possible second to tell him she had issues with planes.

"Oh, I guess you're going to conk out on me huh?" Alfred asked, trying to stay cheerful despite the fact he was going to be bored out of his mind in a few hours when his electronics ran out of charge. She yawned and pulled her seat back.

"Sorry Alfred," Amy mumbled, closing her eyes. The flight attendant made the usual announcements, and Alfred decided that he'd listen to some music for a while and switch to his e-reader when he got bored to try make his entertainment last as long as possible. The plane eventually took off, but by then, Amy was fast asleep, and Alfred had withdrawn into his own imagination. He was initially surprised by the plane taking off, and he panicked slightly before remembering where he was. Amy subconsciously clung to his arm and part of him liked that. The other part worried she would wake up, scream, and freak out. Luckily, she didn't, and Alfred got a little bit of an ego boost.

The plane ride was dull, and the only thing worth nothing was that the airplane food wasn't as awful as he thought it was going to be. He tried waking Amy up before they passed by, but she would only wake up long enough to stare at him vacantly before closing her eyes again. So, he gave up and enjoyed the in flight movie. There were worse things he could watch than Happy Feet.

And yet, for America, sitting still this long was torturous, and he found himself riffling through her bag. No one batted an eye. As far as they knew, the two of them were a happy couple and he was probably looking for a bottle of water or something. America found an address book, most of it was blank or incomprehensible. So, he set it aside and looked at her phone. No contacts. It was easy to see why. The thing was brand new with no past calls other than the taxi service. Alfred wanted to be suspicious, but he was the one that was looking through her bag which didn't exactly leave him in the best position to accuse her of anything. Oh well, he might as well see what else he could find. The laptop he found also appeared brand new with nothing on it. Wait, there was a saved word file that he hadn't looked at yet. Maybe, it was an unfinished email he could look at. The note filled him with shame. "Put the laptop away Alfred. You won't find anything about me like this. " The rest wasn't anything special, just two bottles of water and a bag of chips. He put everything back the way he found it and tried desperately to forget that he had looked through her bag in the first place.

"You seem a little jumpy," she said, clumsily using him as an anchor to pull herself up. Amy was obviously still drowsy and possibly dizzy from the sleeping pills. He decided to carry both their backpacks. He didn't talk, and she didn't complain but eventually . . .

"Are you mad at me?" Alfred sighed, wondering if she wouldn't even remember this later. He was banking on no but shook his head anyway. What he needed to do was find this blonde friend of hers that was supposed to take them to France's place.

"Hey, can you tell me what Lisa looks like again?"

"She's blond and blue eyed. What else could I really tell you?" she said, sounding a little snappish. He wasn't inclined to take her too seriously, just after she woke up.

"Okay, fine, I'm sure she's probably looking for us anyway." America decided that he would wait about twenty minutes out of courtesy and then, rent a taxi if her friend turned out to be a no show.

"I'll call her."

"Like you can even remember your own name right-"

"Shh, I'm calling her."

Alfred wasn't honestly expecting her to be any help right now, but to his surprise, she had the number so deeply ingrained in her psyche that she could recall it despite her current sleeping pill hang over. Lisa picked up the phone on the first ring. From what he could hear, she was waiting outside, probably with a taxi. America decided to take the no nonsense approach and carry Amy to the front.

Her friend was mildly shocked by the display while Amy herself was still to drugged up to be anything other than complacent right now. That served him well, and he grinned to try to reassure Lisa that he wasn't insane. She smiled back feebly, looking off into the distance. He put Amy inside the car. She mumbled something about wanting to ride in the front. He ignored the request and buckled her in. He didn't recognize this particular car which would normally worry him, but he figured that France had bought her the car (possibly as a wedding present) even if he preferred cycling or taking the train to get from place to place.

Alfred sat in the passenger seat in the front, and Lisa started the ignition. The ride was quiet, and he couldn't quite figure out where they were going, and there was a car following them from the back. America would have stopped the car and questioned her by now, but he reminded himself that he didn't visit this part of France often, and they were certainly not the only ones allowed to drive on the road. Still, the longer the trip went on, the less he could ignore the seemingly unending ride and the now fairly obvious bomb strapped to Lisa's chest.

"So, you're not actually marrying Francis are you?" he asked. She chocked back a sob.

"I haven't even met him."


End file.
